


Interludes

by Gracesgirl



Category: Carol (2015), The Price of Salt - Patricia Highsmith
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-19 19:34:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 27,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14244255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gracesgirl/pseuds/Gracesgirl
Summary: Short glimpses into the lives of Carol and Therese





	1. Chapters One Through Six

  1. 1



 

     Carol watched the clear water as it moved over her bare feet.  It was colder than she would like, but the combination of its gentle flow and soothing sound made the bubbling creek irresistible to her.  She closed her eyes, filled with appreciation for the warming, late May sun on her shoulders, and the steadiness of the fallen log beneath her.  She took a deep breath, reaching for Therese’s hand unconsciously, finding it even with her eyes closed, as if a radar in her heart had pinged.

 

     The younger woman’s skin felt soft and cool, and Carol squeezed gently, loving the feel of the slender fingers entwined with her own.  Looking down, she smiled at the sight of Therese’s bare foot, immersed in the water like her own.  She moved slightly, bringing their feet in contact, her polished red toenails in stark contrast to the milky white skin.  The simple act struck her as profoundly intimate.  She tried to imagine ever wanting to do so with Harge, and the preposterousness of the mere thought made her chuckle.

 

     Therese turned her head, auburn streaks flashing in her dark brown hair where it was kissed by sunlight.  “Carol?  What are you thinking?”  She moved her foot so that it was atop Carol’s, caressing in harmony with the water’s flow.  The older woman shook her head.  “Oh…I was just trying to imagine wanting to sit like this with Harge,” she replied, nodding at their hands and feet with intent.  Again, she shook her head, her blond hair brushing her smooth cheeks like threads of golden silk.

 

     “And?” Therese asked, but Carol could feel herself falling silent, falling inward.  Above them, a nuthatch perched its tiny body on a limb of an oak, then sang a few measures of its call, the melody wafting out over the river with stark beauty.  A light breeze lifted the bright green leaves on the trees all around them, causing them to dance in shimmering green and silver.  But it was the water that held Carol’s undivided attention, soothing and mesmerizing her with its gentle gurgle and undeniable flow, with its foaming bubbles that rose as it made its way around a rock, stone, or fallen branch.

 

     She watched without thought for a few quiet moments, until a gray squirrel came into view not far from them.  It hopped from stone to stone, then splashed into the shallow water as it made its way upstream, struggling against the current but determined nonetheless. 

 

   “Living against my grain.”  Startled, Carol heard the words rise within her, unbidden and unwelcome.  Her thoughts flew back in time, and images pushed their way into her awareness with a cold heaviness.   She shivered. 

 

     “Carol?” As she pulled her sweater more firmly around her torso, Carol heard Therese’s concerned voice coming at her, as if through layers of thick clouds.  “Carol, love?  Hey…” The young woman looked around quickly, grateful that their wooded alcove was secluded and no one else was around, and then slipped an arm around Carol’s shoulders.  “Are you okay?  You seem a million miles away.”

 

     Carol blinked once, twice, trying to will away the images, the old, painful feelings.  A wan smile came over her face, her blue-gray eyes filling with tears as her nose reddened and nostrils flared.  “Oh darling,” she whispered, her voice strangled and choked, “I’m so glad you’re here now.  And I wish…I wish you could have been with me then.”  She clenched Therese’s fingers so tightly the younger woman had to keep from crying out.

 

     Instead, she asked, “Where?  Where did you need me to be?”  The tears erupted, rushing forcefully from Carol’s eyes, and a sob rose from deep within, making its way past her tight throat and out into the warm spring air.  Alarmed, Therese turned sideways on the log, putting both arms around Carol, whose head dropped onto the young woman’s chest as she let herself weep. 

 

     “Oh,” she choked out, “at the meeting.  With Harge…Fred…our lawyers…”  She hiccupped, and a wave of pain broke across her chest with such force it stole what little breath she had.  Trying to collect herself, Carol continued. “It was _so awful_ , Therese… _so awful_ …To have to choose between Rindy and myself.  My truth.  Between us.  Between _this_.”  She squeezed the younger woman around her slender waist, then lifted a red, blotchy face, and pressed a fierce kiss to her lips.  She kissed her once more, just as forcefully, then dropped her forehead to her shoulder, wiping her runny nose in Therese’s dark blue sweatshirt without even thinking.  “But I couldn’t go on like that…with Harge…and the psychiatrist… I couldn’t do it anymore.  I couldn’t go against my own grain for one more second.  It felt like I was being strangled, right there on that fucking mahogany table.  _Fuck!_   I wanted to kill them!” 

 

     Carol wept again, and Therese felt like her own heart was clenched in a vice.  She held her, murmuring sweet, melodic, almost unconscious sounds, rocking them the slightest bit on the cool, smooth log.  When the older woman quieted, Therese spoke, a soft, wistful sound in her voice.  “I wish I could have been with you, too, Carol.  I wouldn’t have even thought twice about being there to support you.”  She stroked her back, and Carol breathed in the comfort, relieved to not be holding the memory alone anymore.

 

     Eventually, Therese pulled her face away, holding Carol at a slight distance.  When she smiled, her dimples creased her flawless cheeks, making mirrored question marks on either side of her mouth in the way Carol loved. Her emerald eyes flashed, an inner fire flaming out in green sparks.  “I probably would have cussed them all out, though.  Every one of them!”

 

     Carol chuckled at the somehow quite expected appearance of Therese’s fiery, effervescent spirit.  Bringing a hand up, she stroked her soft cheek, then leaned in to kiss her once, then again, lingering.  Her hand found Therese’s smaller one, and she looked down, almost fascinated to see their fingers entwined.

 

     They were _here._   This was _now._ Here on this fallen tree, with their bare toes dipped into the stream.  The warm sun bathing their shoulders.  A light breeze stirring the trees, their branches humming lullabies.  The nuthatch still singing overhead, for no one, and everyone, or maybe just for them.

 

     And the creek, of course, bubbling here, gliding there, flowing always.  It was a wise preacher, and she heard its gospel message like a church bell reverberating in her soul.  She took a deep breath, squeezing Therese’s hand, feeling its living, solid presence.  And then she released the ugly memory, letting the water carry it downstream, carry the lingering pain, too, ever far, ever away.

 

     Carol closed her eyes, her fingertips stroking Therese’s forearm now, nestled securely in her lap.  _This_ woman.  _This_ life. _This_ moment.  _This_ _is how I flow._

 

  1. 2



 

     Therese traced the faint, dark brown line running from Carol’s pubic bone to her navel.  Her fingertips were gentle, her touch almost reverent.  Carol lay hoping her partner would bring her lips there next. Her touch was incredibly erotic to Carol, and she was craving it, longing to get lost in the sensuous pleasure of their coupling.  But just as she was about to ask for what she desired, Therese spoke.

 

     “Carol?  Can I ask you something?”

 

     Though talking was not part of her present longing, Carol answered, “Of course, darling.  Ask away.”  She tried to keep her tone even and not so breathless.  The younger woman continued to trace the same line, down, then up, then down.  Bringing her dark head down to Carol’s womb, she asked, “Did you like being pregnant?”

 

     The question was not what she expected, and Carol paused to think.  “Hmm…well, I liked parts of it.  Sex with Harge was never exactly scintillating, darling.  Rather like drudgery, in some ways.  But knowing that we had made a child, knowing a baby was growing in me shed a different light on that part of our relationship.”  She paused, remembering.   “It didn’t make me desire sex with him more, but I did come to appreciate him as the father of this child growing inside me.”

 

     Therese was silent for a few beats, her fingertips ever-moving, her mind so busy thinking that her forehead was creased numerous times.  Carol smiled fondly.  She loved Therese’s energy, and her mind could be just as active as her lithe, young body.  Or just as still.  Now, she queried, “And…physically.  What was it like for you?  Was it miserable, or wonderful, or exciting?”

 

     Carol brought her hands to Therese’s head, running gentle fingers through her silken hair.  “Oh, my, you’re taking me back, sweetheart!  I’m sure I can’t remember everything, but…in general, I found pregnancy both miraculous and awful, I think.  It wasn’t easy in a lot of ways,” she said, and needing Therese closer, she tugged at her shoulders until the young woman came up and lay her head in the crook of her shoulder.  When they were comfortably within each other’s arms, she continued, “Having a little life growing within me was…I’m not sure I have the words for it, Therese.  But there were times it felt almost mystical to me, like it couldn’t be part of a normal human experience.  At least, not mine.”

 

     “And?”

 

     Carol laughed lightly.  “Well, the rest of the time I was miserable!  Nauseated and vomiting a lot for almost four months.  My breasts were so tender.  They got _huge_ , too!  My feet swelled, my hands swelled, my body widened.  And my mother and Harge had always pressured me about maintaining my figure, so it really stressed me to gain forty pounds.  I knew it was best for the baby, but I couldn’t imagine ever getting the weight off again.  And let me tell you, it wasn’t easy!”

 

     Therese moved her legs, somewhat agitated.  “None of this sounds too good.  It’s all happening because of…the baby?”

 

     Carol laughed at her innocence, though not unkindly.  “Darling, it’s all because of hormones!  Pregnancy hormones.  Oh…yes, I forgot my emotions!  I couldn’t control them!  Harge liked listening to baseball games back then.  I don’t know which team.  Dodgers, Yankees…whomever was playing, they made me cry!”

 

     Therese sat up, a shocked and mystified look on her face.  “The baseball games made you…cry?”  This seemed unfathomable to her.

 

    Carol shook her head, amusement on her face.  “I know, sweetheart, it doesn’t make sense, I think it’s because of the hormones again…but any time the announcer got excited, or the crowd roared, or heaven forbid, someone hit a home run, I’d get goosebumps, and then I’d start crying with joy.  Every single time!    _Christ, I don’t even like baseball!_ I started to have tissues on hand as soon as Harge turned the radio on.”

 

     The younger woman had no idea why, but somehow the image of Carol sobbing with joy over a home run struck her as hilarious, and she began to laugh.  Really laugh, so that her head fell back, and shoulders shook, and tears began to run down her face.  It was infectious, and soon Carol was laughing, too.  The two women laughed so hard that the bed shook, and whenever they made eye contact it caused another round of fresh giggles to erupt.

 

     When finally, the laughter subsided, Therese found herself with her head tilted to one side, gazing down at Carol.  Her eyes were still dark with merriment, her sculpted cheekbones were splashed with a crimson blush, and her golden blond hair was tousled in a halo of haphazard waves on the pillow.  She looked so beautiful that Therese caught her breath, and something inside her flared to life.  Passion, and love, and a hope of a kind she didn’t really understand.  She swung a leg over Carol’s waist, settling on top of her with her head in the crease of her warm, fragrant neck, her lips leaving tiny kisses that caused a hitch in Carol’s breathing.

 

     One of Therese’s hands wandered immediately to the other woman’s breast, which she palmed gently, almost experimentally.  “Carol?” she whispered.  Through a haze of sexual desire that was beginning to make her feel drugged, Carol whispered back.  “Yes…sweetheart?”

 

     Therese captured a nipple in her teeth.  “I would have loved your breasts, no matter how big they got.”  She kissed her way to the other breast, bringing a low moan out of her partner, then down her slender ribcage to the very top of her abdomen.  She paused, dropping more kisses, using her tongue to taste the soft skin.  Moving steadily downward, she found the dark line again.  “I would have loved your belly, too, no matter how round you got.”  She traced the line with her tongue, and Carol felt goosebumps erupt, cascading down one arm and up the other.  “Ah, Therese,” she panted, “that feels…” but her words faded as she felt her lower abdomen being kissed and sucked erotically.

 

     Lower still, and Therese settled herself between Carol’s legs, stroking her inner thighs tenderly, then leaving trails of reverent kisses.  The older woman panted, and gasped, and when she felt Therese take her, tears sprang to her eyes as her restless hips began to dance.  _So good, so sensuous, so warm_ , _so loving._  She moaned, unable to stop herself, and Therese hummed her agreement as her lips, tongue, and fingers endeavored to show Carol how very desirable she found her.  She loved her into her climax, and through to the other side, staying until the spasms subsided and she heard Carol release a deep, satisfied, relaxed breath.

     Coming up to lay beside her, Therese looked into blue-gray eyes, heavy-lidded now and smoky with the pleasure of release.   She kissed Carol’s inviting lips once, then again, pulling back to stroke her cheek with light fingertips.  “I don’t ever want you to be perfect for me, Carol.  Okay?  I can’t live up to that.  I’m too…imperfect myself.  Please?  Don’t be perfect,” she whispered, kissing her again, “please, just be real.”

 

 

  1. 3



 

_Everything that slows us down and forces patience, everything that sets us back into the slow cycles of nature, is a help.  Gardening is an instrument of grace._         May Sarton

 

     Sr. Alicia gazed around at the numerous Franciscan nuns scattered around the grounds of Pace de Christo.  She smiled to herself.  It was a warm, sunny, mid-April day, and all sisters who were on the “ground’s crew” were out in full force, giggling like flocks of schoolgirls.  Instead of boys, though, their excitement came from the sheer joy of being out in the gardens, which was pure gift, as far as they were concerned.  After so many months of being cooped up inside, watching rain and sleet pelt the windows, and snow and ice encase the earth, it was with an abiding sense of gratitude that they breathed in the warm air and walked softly on the soil. 

 

     The old nun shook her head in amusement.  She supposed there were more than a few individuals who thought this group of nuns and the convent they inhabited to be backward, unworldly in a naïve way, missing the boat in others.  And yet they were the wisest, most tender-hearted and yet worldly people she knew.  Spending so much time among the suffering tended to bring about these fruits, and she loved her companions for this.  She loved her life as a sister, and certainly her God, even when that God was a complete mystery.  But here in the garden, the mystery revealed itself, unfolding in soil and flower.

 

     She breathed deeply, picking up her clippers.  Above her, birds soared on updrafts against the bold, cerulean sky.  From below, the smell of the rich, loamy soil rose, still clinging to winter’s chill and yet pungent with the promise of life.  Out of the corner of her eye, Sr. Alicia spied several plump robins hopping in the greening lawn, pecking here and there as they sought to fill their bellies.  She smiled, delighted to have their company.  It was more than enough.

 

     Her focus was always the ever-climbing clematis.  It was she who did the pruning each spring, sloughing off last season’s dead growth, attempting to make way for the new.  Now, it lay before her in a tangle of twisted branches bearing browned leaves, within which the tiniest, fresh green buds showed their faces.  It was a task she looked forward to each spring…a mini retreat, if she were being honest.

 

      It didn’t take a swami to recognize the spiritual parallels for the old nun.  As she began to lift and clip, Sr. Alicia thought of death and rebirth, death and rebirth.  Her body, her being, her spirit always living out its own cycles, and most of the time without a single conscious thought from her.  Once again, she offered this time up to God, turning herself over to the Master Gardener and praying for the humility and courage to allow her being to be pruned by compassion, by love, according to a wisdom she could not yet perceive.

 

     The nuns worked quietly now, and peace permeated the gardens as if layered on the softly blowing breeze.  They were fed, silenced by the utter and depthless beauty of joining in creation’s new act. 

 

     Entranced, Sr. Alicia smiled.  This was goodness.  This was gift.  This was who she was born to become.

 

 

  1. 4



 

     Jolted from a restful sleep, Carol’s first conscious awareness was of the heavy breathing in her ear, followed by the voice that seemed to be rattling her eardrum.  “Mommy!  Mommy!”  She groaned inwardly, rising from the depths of delicious slumber as if through a swamp of molasses.  Carol struggled, knowing she longed to stay in the sweet depths.  _Why, oh why, didn’t children sleep?_

A small hand shook her shoulder as Rindy repeated herself with urgency.  “Mommy!  Wake up!  Benny is up and what do I do now?”

 

     On the other side of the bed, Therese, too, clawed herself awake.  She felt four paws making their way, somewhat pleasantly, up her blanket-covered body, and then a wet tongue commencing to lick every inch of the half of her face that lay exposed.  “Oh!  Benny!  Enough!  Enough, buddy!”  Beside her, Rindy giggled, and despite the rude interruption of her sleep, Therese delighted in the sound.

 

     “Benny!” the child ventured, “Kiss me that way!”  Both Carol and Therese watched as the little mutt obeyed, planting himself in Rindy’s small lap and beginning to lick.  As the child giggled again, Therese looked at Carol.  Even in the filtered, early morning sun, she could see the glow of love for her child.  It shone like a gem rising from the placid stillness of her blue-gray eyes, so absorbing Carol that Therese was able to slip from their bed unnoticed.

 

     The younger woman moved quickly, grabbing her dark blue robe from the end of the bed as she made her way to the closet.  Finding her camera bag on the floor, she pulled out the camera and removed the lens cap, glancing at the bed as she worked.  Carol was propped against the pillows with Rindy leaning against her chest, and both were petting Benny, who had calmed and was lying beside them.

 

     Therese approached with her camera ready, completely focused on the trio.  She had taken a couple pictures before Rindy even noticed.  “Oh, Therese!  You’re taking our picture!  Smile, mommy!  Smile, Benny!” 

 

     Later in the week, when Therese sorted through the developed photos, one would stand out as her clear favorite.  It showed Rindy looking down at Benny, her blue eyes bright with the kind of excitement only children seemed to express.  Her golden blond hair lay in curly, sleep-rumbled disarray around her face, and a beaming smile supported perfect, plump cheeks, which looked to Therese like apples kissed by the sun.  Carol was gazing at Rindy, a gentle smile curving her full lips.  Her blond hair was tousled, too, with the remnants of sleep, her smooth cheeks pale in the dim light.  But it was Carol’s eyes that most caught Therese’s attention, their blue-gray depths filled with such soft tenderness that the young brunette caught her breath, leaning back in the kitchen chair to just stare.

 

     It was a profound moment, and one she would call from memory even years later, long after Rindy was grown.  It had a powerful, healing quality, and Therese always insisted the photo be displayed, so she could frequently be reminded.

 

_This is what it looks like when a mother loves her child._

  1. 5



 

     Carol picked up her handbag with a toss of her head, a wave of sleek, blond hair cascading over her shoulder.  “Okay, I’ll be back soon.  Are you sure all you want is the sandwich?”  Her closest friend, Abby Gerhart, nodded through the haze of blue smoke from her cigarette, not looking up from the ledger.  “Mm-hmm.  That’s it.  Pastrami on rye with all the fixings.  Thanks, Carol.  I’ll go next time.”  The other woman smiled.  “Oh, I know you will!” she replied, tugging her cardigan around her shoulders as she made for the store’s entrance.

 

     Abby’s narrow face never lifted from the book before her, so focused was she on the numbers displayed.  She alternately sipped her coffee and took pulls from her cigarette, blowing out the smoke through narrowed eyes.  Her auburn hair lay in attractive waves around her head and shoulders, in striking contrast to her cream-colored blouse and darker cream cardigan.  She was a tall, slender, very pretty woman who made quite a pleasing sight for customers approaching the counter at the furniture store she owned and operated with Carol.

 

     So focused was she on finishing her task of balancing the books, Abby failed to hear the bell above the front door jingle, and didn’t notice the customers standing before her until she heard a pleasant voice say, “Hello.”  Stunned, she jumped to her feet so quickly it caused her to choke on the smoke she’d been blowing about.  She peered through her watery, hazel eyes, almost doing a double take at the sight in front of her.

 

     “There, there dear.  Are you okay?  Can we get you some water?”  Stubbing out the cigarette, Abby shook her head from side to side, still trying to gather her professional wits about her.  “Uh, er…no.  No, thank you.  Can I…help you?” she asked politely, though still feeling off-balance, but remembering she was here to wait on these customers.

 

     “You must be Abby?” the woman before her asked. 

 

     Abby nodded dumbly.  “Yes, I’m Abby Gerhart.  Carol’s friend and business partner.  And I would guess you are Sr. Alicia?”

 

     Alicia smiled, her eyes lighting up as she took in Abby’s lovely countenance.  “Yes, I am, and this is Sr. Mary Margaretta,” she explained with a nod of her head toward the petite young woman beside her.  With mischief in her voice, she added, “But…how’d you know it was me?”  And unable to help herself, Alicia threw back her head and laughed so robustly it startled Abby.  The younger nun laughed, too, rolling her eyes in amusement.   Catching the look on Abby’s face, Alicia added, “I’m sorry, dear.  I couldn’t help myself!  You just looked so stunned to see us, it was rather comical.  I take it you’ve never had sisters in robes and habits come into the store before?”

 

     Shaking her head, Abby replied, “You’ve got that right, Sr. Alicia!  I recognize the…outfits you all wear, but I’ve never had a conversation with a sister.  Or two!  And no, Carol and I aren’t typically selling to your demographic much.”  _Christ, Abby, get a grip.  Oops!  Don’t say Christ.  Don’t even think it.  Crap,_ _what is with me?  They’re women, just like me!  But the younger one.  My, she’s a looker!  That face!  And is that…red hair peeking out from under her…whatever it’s called?  A red-haired nun!  I’m damned to hell!_

 

     “…and that’s why we’ve stopped by!” Alicia finished her sentence, only to notice the auburn-haired woman staring at her again, looking totally out of sorts.  _I bet she hasn’t heard a word I’ve said!  Oh, dear.  Poor thing!_   “So, Abby, tell me, is Carol out of the shop today?”  She’d no sooner asked the question, when the front door was opened, its bell ringing once again, and Carol came breezing in with a brown paper sack in her hand.

 

     “Okay, Abby, we’re all set!  Let’s…”  She stopped when she noticed the shop’s visitors, a huge smile filling her lovely, flushed face.  “Alicia!” Carol exclaimed, dropping the sack on the front counter.  She embraced her, clutching the old nun’s ample bosom to her chest.  “Alicia!  I’m so happy to see you!  I can’t believe you’re here!” she continued with unmistakable joy in her voice.  “And this?  Who have you brought along?”

 

     “This is Sr. Mary Margaretta.  And Mary, this is Carol Aird.”  As she shook hands with the younger sister, Carol couldn’t help but notice how stunningly beautiful she was.  Hazel eyes, flawless skin, a light dusting of freckles across the bridge of her pert nose and… _Lord, help us.  Red hair!_ It made her nervous to make eye contact with Abby, but when she did she saw her closest friend looking uncharacteristically discomfited, though it didn’t quite diminish the gleam in her eye.

 

     Shooting Abby a knowing look, she said, “I’m so glad to meet you, Sr, Mary Margaretta.  Welcome to our store!  Now, let me get you both a chair and we can talk about what brings you in.”  But Alicia shook her head.  “Carol dear, that’s kind of you, but we need to get on the road.  It’s a long drive back to Albany, and Mary was kind in volunteering to drive me down to the city for my specialist’s appointment.  We left so early this morning, and I’m sure we are both feeling it.  Let me just tell you what I already told Abby, and we’ll be on our way.”  She paused, aware of the younger nun’s quiet presence.  “On second thought, Mary, why don’t you fill Carol in?”

 

     Mary nodded.  “Of course!  I’m working with Alicia now to assist with the immigrant’s ministry,” she began, her voice somehow as soft and lovely as her face, “and we are really being challenged in finding furniture for their homes.  We’ve put out the word around Albany, but people only have so much used furniture they can give away.  So, since the two of you are in the business, we thought it couldn’t hurt to ask if you might have a lead or two, you know…people we might approach about donations?  We have several parishioners,” she added quickly, “with pick-ups they use to haul hay.  They’ve even volunteered to come down this way and collect anything we might find.”

 

     Finally finding her voice, Abby spoke, relieved that she sounded like her competent, professional self again.  “Oh, well that shouldn’t be too hard for us to help with.  We have people come in all the time, looking for new pieces.”  She smiled in typical Abby fashion, her eyebrows rising suggestively.  “They have to do _something_ with the old furniture, right?”

 

     Carol chimed in.  “I agree!  We can definitely try to assist.  Maybe we can even post a few signs around the store here and there.”

 

     The nuns looked at each other, then at the store’s owners, their faces glowing with gratitude.  Alicia spoke.  “Oh…this is wonderful!  Thank you, girls, for your willingness to help our ministry.”  The younger nun clapped her slender hands in excitement. “Oh yes, thank you so very much!  This is just…heaven-sent!  The immigrant families.  They’d break your heart.  Children without warm coats, tenement apartments without heat…not enough food…”  Her voice trailed away helplessly.

 

     Carol smiled, and it was kindness itself. “Sr. Mary Margaretta, Abby and I both have _so much._ It’s a wonderful way for us both to give back.  Right, Abby?”  She looked at her friend fondly.

 

     “Definitely!  Can’t wait to start.  Now, let me find you a few business cards…”

 

     It wasn’t long after that the sisters took their leave, Alicia supported by her cane on one side and her companion’s elbow on the other.  When the door closed behind them, Carol and Abby just looked at each other for a moment before Abby reached for the pack of cigarettes.  Taking a long, grateful pull, she blew out the smoke, and handed the cigarette to her friend. 

 

     “So, that’s Sr. Alicia.  I never in a million years would have expected to meet her today.”

 

     Carol released her own lungful of smoke, smiling through the blue haze.  “I know.  And isn’t she lovely?  I’m so fond of her!  So loving and giving and wise…and Sr. Mary Margaretta.  Much younger, but she seems just as kind and loving…”

 

     Abby narrowed her eyes, barely able to contain herself.  “Mm-hmm.  Kind and loving and…well, Carol, did you see the way she looked?  Good lord, if she wasn’t a nun, I’d—"

 

     “ _Abigail!_ Banish the thought!  She’s a nun, for heaven’s sake!” Carol retorted sharply, rolling her eyes in exasperation.  “You are incorrigible!”  But she laughed at her friend, her heart filling with love.

 

     “Carol, nun or not, that is one beautiful woman!  And I’ll bet…underneath that long dress is one _hot_ body, too!” she finished, a playful yet somehow wolfish grin on her face.

 

     “Abigail!” Carol shouted, right before the two old friends dissolved into a fit of uncontrolled laughter, and one that kept them laughing for quite a while…

 

 

  1. 6



_For Win, with deep gratitude_

_For Christ plays in ten_

_thousand places,_

_Lovely in limbs_

_and lovely in eyes not his._

 

Gerard Manley Hopkins

 

     It began with a tickle in the back of her throat, almost innocuous, a vague awareness amidst the demands of her busy day at the office of the _Times._ But the scratchiness grew more pronounced as afternoon approached, and as Therese sorted through photos for a weekend feature article she could feel a distinct heaviness in her head and an ache beginning in her temples.  She frowned.  _Shit, the last_ _thing I need is a cold!_

 

     Much later, when she had returned home from work, the young woman could feel lethargy writing its sickly signature upon her slender frame.  “C’mon, Benny.  Good boy!  Time to go in,” she told the beautiful, black puppy who scampered happily along at her feet, yipping importantly at passersby.  As they rode the elevator up to the sixth floor, Therese had to fight the creeping nausea in her belly and the heat that began to seep from the neck of her collared shirt.  Benny’s leash suddenly weighed too much, and she could feel her face flushing as if she was staring into an oven.

 

     “Benny, I’m think I’m getting sick, buddy,” she observed listlessly.  Inside the light, airy apartment, Therese filled the pup’s water and food bowls, moving stiffly.  She groaned, bringing a hand to her neck, which was hot and clammy.  _Jesus.  I need to lay down._   She made her way to the bedroom, pulling off her sweater while kicking off her shoes.  It seemed to take every ounce of energy she had to remove her blouse, skirt, and hose, and then Therese crawled under the covers and slid her aching body into the cool expanse of the soft, pale green sheets.

“Oh my,” she whispered into the quiet stillness.  She shivered and clutched the blankets around herself.  As she faded into a fevered sleep, Therese didn’t notice Benny’s whimper.  The little dog peered down at his master, his head cocked and white, left ear twitching anxiously.  He whimpered again, a small dog’s cry of concern, and then lay down beside Therese, where he stretched his compact body as close to the sick young woman as it could get.

Carol arrived home some time later, coming through the door feeling ever-thankful for this warm space and the woman who waited for her.She threw her light spring jacket on a waiting chair, calling out, “Therese, I’m home, sweetheart.”  The apartment was quiet, which was peculiar at this time of the late afternoon, when Benny was usually scampering about and Therese starting on dinner.

 

     Getting no response, Carol shook her head, her sleek blond hair cascading in a veil of curls.  “Maybe they’re out for a walk,” she mused, heading for the bedroom.  But when she entered, she saw Therese’s prone body in the bed.  Benny cried out softly, his small face looking alert, concerned, and rather like a wise physician who was very concerned for his patient. 

 

     “Hi, Bens.” Carol greeted him kindly, but in a distracted fashion.  She walked quickly to the bedside, and there found Therese sleeping, her lovely face flushed, her lips parted, a raspy sound coming from her throat.  “Oh, darling,” the older woman cooed, bringing a hand to her forehead.  She frowned, feeling the heat emanating and knowing without a doubt that she was running a fever.

 

     Therese stirred at the touch of the cool, soft hand that now stroked her hot cheek.  She forced her eyes open, feeling the protest of the heavy, aching muscles behind them.  She winced.  “Hi.  I…I think I’m sick, Carol.”  As she spoke, Therese felt a burp rising from the netherworld of her belly.  Bile rose quickly on its heels.  She attempted to throw off the bed clothes, moving as quickly as she could with her limbs feeling so leaden, but it wasn’t fast enough.  Before she’d taken even a single step, a plume of vomit literally shot up and out her mouth with so much force it streamed three feet across the bedroom carpet.

 

     Therese was stunned for only a moment, her hand clamping over her parched lips. “Oh, no,” she wailed, and then bolted for the bathroom where she proceeded to wretch repeatedly into the toilet, the contents of her stomach coming out in a violent, putrid surge.  Behind her, Carol kicked off her shoes and sprang into action, stepping purposefully over the soiled carpet and coming to Therese’s side.  The younger woman had stopped vomiting and now sat in a heap on the floor, tears coming down her face.  She put her heavy, aching head in her hands, shaking it back and forth. 

 

     “Carol, I’m so sorry…being this way.  I’ve made such a mess!  Please, don’t be in here with me!  I’m…it’s…disgusting!” she cried out.  Carol pulled a clean washcloth out of the linen closet, running it under cool water.  Coming to her knees, she carefully disengaged Therese’s arms from around her head and lifted her chin with a gentle hand.  “Shh.  Shh now, darling,” she replied, her voice soft and soothing.  She blotted Therese’s red, tear-stained face with the cool cloth, smiling tenderly.  “You’re not disgusting, Therese.  You’re sick.  Come on.  Let’s get you cleaned up.  And into some clean, warm pajamas, okay?”  She frowned as she observed the younger woman’s bare legs, and the fact she was shivering now on the cool tiles of the bathroom floor.  “Come, sweetheart.  Let’s get your teeth brushed.  There you go,” she nodded with approval as Therese stood, which seemed to take all her strength. Carol put toothpaste on the younger woman’s toothbrush, handing it to her a she slipped a steadying arm around her slim waist.

 

     Carol kept her arm around Therese as they entered the bedroom, where the vomit on the carpet was giving off a stench.  “Come this way.  We’ll get you comfortable in Rindy’s room while I clean up the carpet.”  The younger woman was mostly silent, too weak to protest.  She leaned on Carol as they walked, and Carol could hear the deep congestion beginning to fill her lungs.

 

     Therese used the last bit of strength to crawl into Rindy’s twin bed, oblivious to the collection of colorful, stuffed animals that were pushed aside and now kept her company.  She lay her head on the downy pillow and was slipping away into restless sleep as Carol crept from the room _.  Aspirin.  Water._   _Vick’s Vaporub. Clean pajamas.  Warm socks._

 

     Carol entered their bedroom with her brow furrowed, sizing up her own clothing and the vomitous mass next.  She cringed, but then squared her shoulders and pushed on.  As she removed her skirt, blouse, and hose, Benny watched her from their big bed.  “I feel you watching me, Bens.  I wish I could stop to cuddle, too, but Therese is so sick and she comes first, buddy!”  Dressed now in an old sweatshirt and pair of soft, worn dungarees, she stopped to pet the dog’s head, dropping a quick kiss on the soft fur.  She inhaled deeply, comforted by Benny’s scent, which seemed to carry elements of fresh air, talcum powder, and canine earthiness.  She never imagined her life with a dog, and now she couldn’t imagine her life without one.

 

     Therese was coughing when Carol came back, thrashing about in discomfort.  She put her hand on the younger woman’s forehead, feeling the fever blazing there.  Bending to kiss the top of the brunette head, she whispered, “Therese, sweetheart, let’s get you comfortable, ok?”  Therese just coughed and moaned, then coughed again.  The sound was painful.  “Come on, baby, work with me here.  Let’s get these pajamas on you,” Carol murmured, working the bottoms up Therese’s slender legs, her touch tender and light.  Next the top, and she hummed unconsciously as she worked, removing Therese’s bra, then lifting her shoulders to put the garment on.  “There we go, sweetheart, almost all done.  We’ve just got to get it buttoned now,” she observed, distracted by Therese’s very pale face and parched lips.

 

     Somehow, Carol managed to cajole Therese into a sitting position, supporting her back while coaxing her to swallow the aspirin.  “Please, Therese.  Swallow this, and have more water, okay?  You’re feverish and pale and I think dehydrated, sweetheart.”  Therese obeyed, but the effort seemed to exhaust her.  She lay back, shivering and moaning, still refraining from speech.  Carol tucked the covers in around her shoulders, then smoothed the damp hair away from her forehead.

 

     “Oh, my darling, I think you’ve got flu, and a good one.”  She sighed.  “But I’m here.  We’ll get through this and soon you’ll be better.”  She stroked her cheek, and Therese turned her face to the comfort of the cool, soft hand.  Carol smiled, her blue-gray eyes bright with love that sparkled, like stars descending and bursting in her chest.  It almost hurt to breathe, so deeply were the feelings that seized her.  _What is this love?  Where did it come from, and how is it_ _that it so consumes me?_ She swallowed the lump in her throat.  Therese looked so ill, so young and defenseless and vulnerable. _I’ll take care of you._

 

     Later that evening, Carol found she was far too concerned about Therese to go sleep in their room.  Instead, she tossed Rindy’s stuffed animals on top of her toy box and slid into the narrow confines of the twin bed next to Therese.  The young woman’s chest sounded raspy, her nose so stuffed her mouth hung open so she could breathe.  She slept fitfully, but at least she was sleeping, Carol thought with cautious relief.

 

     Somewhere in the middle of the night, Therese stirred, opening her aching eyes and instantly regretting it.  Her body ached so badly that even her teeth seemed to hurt, and a severe headache pounded at her temples and the base of her neck.  She was overcome and began to cry, releasing the wretched feelings that set her heart aflame.  Her slender body shook, and a part of her regretted the tears, for they only made her eyes hurt worse.   But she couldn’t stop them, nor the plaintive call that came from her hoarse throat: “Carol?  Are you there?”  She looked in the direction of the door but only saw the inky darkness that threatened to swallow her.  “Carol?”  Her heart raced, keeping time with the pulsing ache in her muscles.  She was frightened.

 

     Next to her, Carol popped awake at the sound of her name.  She sat up and turned simultaneously, peering with glazed eyes in the general direction of Therese’s voice.  “Sweetheart?  What is it?”  She blinked several times, until her eyes adjusted to the darkness and she could see the younger woman’s face by the dim light spilling in from the hallway.  Reaching out her hand, she brushed Therese’s dark hair from her face, and felt the wetness of tears.  Her heart filled with concern.  “What is it, darling?  How can I help?”

 

     Carol’s tenderness was her undoing.  Therese felt the sob rise like magma from the heated bowels of the earth, flaming its way through the dark labyrinth of memory.  It broke free in a breathless wail, splitting the still night with such ferocity that Carol jumped.  Therese heaved out sob after sob.  “I’m so glad…you’re here… Don’t want to be…alone,” hiccup, hiccup, “everything hurts…my eyes can’t move…” hiccup, hiccup, “ _Please…don’t leave me!”_ Cough, cough, cough.

 

     Carol held her, overwhelmed by the depth of Therese’s fear and misery and the intensity of her own fierce love.  She rocked her, kissed her forehead, rubbed her back, wiped her runny nose with her fingers, rocked her some more, held her until the tears finally subsided, and Therese lay back, exhausted and racked with coughing fits.

 

     Carol felt her forehead, which was once again hot.  “I think you need to take more aspirin, sweetheart.  And lots of water and I’ll find some cough syrup.”  She stroked her cheek with the back of her fingers, then leaned to kiss it, lingering for a moment, breathing in Therese’s scent.  Even in sickness, she knew her scent as if it had been imprinted on her own DNA and was slowly, wisely revealing itself.  It gave her peace.  “I’ll be right back, sweetheart,” Carol whispered, heading off for a fresh glass of water and the cough syrup.

 

     As the medicine took effect, Therese calmed, slipping back into much needed sleep.  Carol lay on her side, the blankets tucked securely around them.  Dawn crept closer, and then morning.  The sun began to spill its early May rays happily, and they shone through the cracks in the blinds like giggling children playing Hide-and-Seek.

 

     Therese opened her eyes with caution, afraid of the ache deep in the surrounding muscles.  She breathed through the wheeze in her lungs, focusing instead on the birdsong coming through the window.  Their calls gave her hope, calming the part of her that was always so terrified of journeying alone.  She felt for Carol’s hand, finding it and memorizing its hills, valleys, and crags with light fingertips.  _Carol.  Carol’s here.  I’m not alone.  Carol will help me._

 

     Therese closed her eyes, taking a huge, relieved breath, her suffering body releasing it to the blooming spring.   _Thank you.  Thank you_ , she whispered, her prayer urgent and heartfelt.  Beside her, Carol stirred, opening her eyes and feeling immediate relief that Therese looked more relaxed.  “Sweetheart?  How are you feeling?”

 

     Therese turned so she could see Carol clearly.  The sun lightened the space behind her, and her blond hair seemed to glow, shot through with white-gold.  Therese took in the sheer loveliness of her face, following its planes and angles with discerning, grateful eyes.  Words took shape, appearing out of the halls of memory.

 

     “Veronica wiped the face of Jesus,” Therese whispered, mystified and yet strangely comforted.

 

     Carol reached out a hand, running her fingers through Therese’s messy, silky hair.  “Sweetheart?  Veronica?  Who was she?”  Her tone was full of kind curiosity.

 

     “I don’t…I don’t know…”  Therese ‘s forehead was creased, her voice raspy.  “I just said it…remembered her…maybe…”  She paused, clearly perplexed.  “Do you know Veronica?”

 

     Carol smiled, and her face was creased with gentleness, her blue eyes with kindness.  “No darling, I don’t know Veronica.  She must have been important to you at some point.  When you’re feeling better, you can call Alicia.  She’ll tell you, I’m sure.”

 

     Therese thought of Alicia, that dear woman, and Carol, here now, and her deep emerald eyes filled with tears.  She swallowed with difficulty.  “Carol…thank you so much for being here…for taking care of me.  It’s…I never had…well, thank you,” she whispered, and bit her dry lip.

 

     Carol was deeply moved and slid over to bring their foreheads together.  Therese’s breath smelled like sickness and cough syrup, and Carol’s smile was tender and wise. 

 

     “This is love, sweetheart.  This is love.”

 

                                        ____________________________________________

 

     It took a few weeks, but Therese eventually felt the return of her health and vitality in its fullness.  She felt, she thought, like the leaves themselves.  In Central Park, they filled out the trees, greening more each day with a bright, fresh clarity that practically shouted of spring’s return.  She had been very ill, and she took each step with gratitude that seemed to vibrate in her cells, making her skin almost buzz.

 

     Home now with Benny after their evening walk, Therese thought again of Veronica, who seemed to pass in and out of her consciousness on a regular basis now.   _Veronica.  Veronica wiped the face of Jesus._ She poured herself a glass of cold water and sat down next to the phone, picking up the receiver and dialing a well-remembered number.  Benny cuddled next to her on the sofa, his warm body pressed close.

“Hello?” came a pleasant voice.

 

     “Hi Alicia, it’s Therese.  How are you?”

 

     “Therese, dear girl!  It’s so good to hear from you!  And I’m fine.  Coming to life again, now it’s spring!  And tell me about you,” the Franciscan nun asked, her typical, ebullient energy in her voice.  The two women talked for a while, Therese filling Alicia in on her bout with illness and subsequent recovery, Carol’s well-being, work, and Benny’s ever-present antics, which had the old nun hooting with laughter.

 

     Finally, Therese said, “Alicia, can I ask you something?”

 

     “Of course, dear.  Ask away!”

 

     “Well, I’m sure it’s from my years with you at St. Agatha’s.  A prayer, maybe…or a bible verse, but… Who is Veronica, and why did she wipe Jesus’s face?”  Alicia settled more deeply into the chair in her small prayer space at Pace di Christo, happy to be conversing with Therese.  “Ah, yes, Veronica.  You’d have heard this as we prayed the Stations of the Cross during Lent and on Good Friday.”

 

     “And did she really wipe his face?” Therese asked again, absently studying the sheen of Benny’s black fur as she petted him.  Alicia swallowed her tea.  “So the gospels tell us.  Jesus was carrying his cross, bleeding and sweating, the crowd was jeering him…but Veronica was moved to be kind.  She stepped forward and wiped the blood and sweat from his face.  The gospels say Christ left the imprint of his image on her veil.”

 

     Therese was silent, picturing the scene.  Then she thought of her flu, and Carol’s tender care.  She felt deeply moved, staying silent as feelings moved through her.  Alicia spoke again.  “It’s a story about compassion, Therese…compassion is so much of loving.  We’re all called to be Veronica, to bring a compassionate heart to the world.”

 

     Therese rang off, a feeling of peace washing over her.  Her hand moved through Benny’s soft fur, his sleeping warmth pressed up against her.  The late day sun streamed in at an angle, and she watched the tiny pieces of dust that floated mysteriously by, glinting like silver-white fairy dust.  The birds chirped happily, visiting the feeder out on the balcony.

 

    She felt blessed, and happy to be well again.  She thought of Veronica and Jesus.  And Carol.  And compassionate love.

 

    She would try to become compassion and love.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "You're imperfect and you're wired for struggle,  
> but you are worthy of love and belonging.
> 
> Brene Brown

 

     “I’m fine, Therese, it’s fine.  Really.  Okay?”  Carol’s tone was tinged with a barely concealed iciness, a stiffness that Therese had come to know and almost despise.  Her lovely, blond partner sat across the kitchen table.  She was dressed for the work day in a green, lightweight cardigan and sleek gray skirt.  Her hose held a sleek finish, and her gray pumps had nary a blemish on their shiny surface.  Her hair and makeup were done so impeccably it was as if she was an actress down on Broadway and had just left the makeup department before the premier of the season’s biggest show.

 

Therese sighed, nibbling on her toast.  _Perfection.  She’s wearing her armor of perfection._   Rising, she took her plate and cup to the sink, pouring out the cold remains of her coffee.  She turned, looking at Carol for a moment more.  “I know.  Everything is fine.”  She paused, biting her lip, not quite able to make eye contact.  “I’m going to be late.  I’ll see you tonight.  Have a good day.”

The older women looked at her, a distracted air sprinkling her diffuse energies about.  She smiled faintly.  “Okay, darling.  I’ll see you this evening.”  Therese turned to go.  Neither woman made a move to step forward and bridge the gap to exchange their goodbye kiss.

Walking to work at the _Times,_ Therese realized she was practically stomping her heels to the pavement in frustration.  She felt like knocking other pedestrians aside.  _Get out of my damn way._ It was Carol, of course.  Therese had become very familiar with this pattern in the eighteen months they’d known each other.  Carol speaks with Harge.  Harge says something, or does something—this time pre-empting their time with Rindy because of an event he had planned with his mother—that wounds Carol and makes her long even more for her child. 

 

     And then, the effects.  Therese had watched them, one by one, over the last two weeks or so, as they inexorably made their way into the space she shared with the older woman.  Carol’s emotional distancing, plainly obvious in the way she buried herself in interior design magazines night after night, until she rose from the sofa, simply said, “Goodnight, darling,” and swept away in her robe, leaving a wide-eyed Therese watching her back.  Her short, one sentence answers.  Therese would admit to being manipulative, but only to an extent.  She asked Carol questions, truly caring about her well-being and the state of her mind and heart.  But the older woman answered in a short, abrupt manner.  Her body language said, “out of my space,” and if Carol had cared to elaborate, her words would, too.

 

     But it was in her appearance that Therese always noticed Carol attempting to repair the damages of her contacts with Harge.  The younger woman had decided that Carol’s beauty was, among many things, her armor of perfection.  When Harge made her feel _less than,_ her perfect, stunningly beautiful appearance made the statuesque blond feel, if not _more than_ , at least more like her typical self.  If it wasn’t so sad and imposing, it would be a fascinating study, Therese had decided somewhere along the way.  Carol would wear her most stylish outfits to work and would fuss over her appearance in the mirror almost obsessively.  At the end of the day, instead of changing into her typical dungarees, casual skirt, or—Therese’s favorite—her worn, plaid robe—Carol would linger in her work clothes, nursing her whiskey in stony silence while perusing the day’s mail.

 

     Therese sighed, and as she made her way onto the elevator of the _Times’_ building, she couldn’t quite keep the lump from her throat or the tears at bay. They stung her eyes and reddened her pert nose.  Uncomfortable in the crowd of harried strangers, she looked at the sport coat of the tall gentleman standing in front of her and studied the crease of his trousers as if she had ironed it in place herself.

 

_I miss her.  My god, I miss her, and I don’t know how to be there for her, how to get her to open the door again.  I just wish—_

“Therese?  Hey, you okay?”  Dannie’s voice came in to her consciousness finally, as if it had travelled through a long, dark tunnel.  Looking at him, Therese blinked.  It felt like her ears were stuffed with cotton.  She smiled at her friend and fellow junior photo editor.

 

     “I’m sorry, Dannie.  I’m just…distracted, I guess.  A lot on my mind, I suppose,” she explained, unable to keep the melancholy from her voice.

 

     Dannie’s friendly face reflected his concern, and he narrowed his eyes as he studied the pretty, petite brunette.  They had left the elevator by now, moving more slowly and out of earshot of the other busy employees bustling to their desks.  “Uh-oh, I know that tone of voice.” he replied, his voice soft and respectful.  “Trouble in paradise?”  Almost stunned by his perception, Therese merely nodded.  After a few seconds, she responded, “A little bit, Dannie.  But it’s…it’s okay.  It’s fine.  But,” she paused and smiled kindly, “thank you for caring.  You’re a good friend, Dannie.”

 

     He smiled his own reply.  “Well, you deserve it!  You’re a peach, T!  I hope things smooth out soon.”  With that he made his way to his desk, and Therese to hers.  Her slim shoulders sagged, and her pumps dragged along the linoleum floor heavily.  Try as she might, she couldn’t shake the sadness she felt.  It was so hard to feel this wall between herself and Carol.  She longed for her to be…accessible.  Soft.  Open.  To allow herself to be touched and loved, emotionally and physically.

 

     But they’d danced this particular movement before, and Therese knew it took time for Carol’s armor to come down.  She didn’t blame her, in a way.  Her child had been taken from her, and Therese could not imagine the hole that left.  She couldn’t imagine Carol’s pain.

_What I can do is continue to love her._ One of the reasons she had been born was to love Carol.  Therese knew this in the very marrow of her bones.  It had been imprinted in her cells at birth.  She didn’t particularly feel worthy or capable at times…like now.  But she would try her best.  And then she would let God do the rest.

The young brunette smiled as she thought of Sr. Alicia’s words last evening as she had poured out her troubled heart.  _Let Therese be Therese, and let God be God._ She exhaled heavily. _Okay, God.  Be_ _God!_ Whatever that means, she thought uncertainly.  And do it quickly.  I’ve had about enough of this!

 

     But despite Therese’s best intentions, she found her resolve weakening and her own needs wearing on her as the days of cold and brittle weather continued inside the apartment.  She found herself wanting to snap at Carol, pummel her chest, do _something_ to splinter the thick wall the older woman had erected, even if only in the smallest way.  And then one night, Therese heard the unmistakable sound of shattering glass coming from the other room.  And then a shouted expletive.  “Fuck!  Just fuck!”

 

     The younger woman leapt from the sofa where she’d been reading, moving to the kitchen with alacrity.  Carol stood there, the front of her linen skirt splattered with a dark splotch of iced tea.  Her glass lay at her feet, its many pieces flung about the floor, lying in a pool of dark liquid.  Her white, terry cloth slippers were stained with tea also, her blouse pulled from its waistband.  A tentative Therese looked at Carol’s face, and there saw the older woman’s composure crumpling for the first time in weeks.  Red, splotchy cheeks.  A shiny nose with nostrils flaring.  Full, trembling lips.  And blue gray eyes, darkened with pain and unshed tears.

 

     “Carol?”  Therese felt terrified and calm in the very same moment.  When the other woman raised her eyes, it was to reveal—finally—a glimpse of her inner world, the pain she kept hidden behind her perfect appearance.  The pain Therese observed breaking through made the young woman clutch at her own chest unconsciously.  “Carol?”

 

     “Help me.”  The two words were simple, stark, soft, and yet Therese knew it took tremendous courage—and trust—to say them.  She looked about for a dish towel.  “Yes, of course I can.”  She whipped her head around.  “Let me go…let me get some more towels and find the broom, okay?”

 

     But Carol shook her head.  “No, Therese.  _Help me._ Help me to…move.”  Therese smiled gently, reaching out her hand.  “Yes, okay.  Here…let’s make sure you don’t slip, okay?”  Carol’s hand felt cool in her own, and Therese steadied her as the tall blond tip-toed through the glass and over the slippery tiles.  She led her across the floor and into the other room.  “There you are, Carol.”  The younger woman smiled again, tenderness shining from her emerald eyes.  She moved her head faintly toward the bedroom.  “Go.  Go change.  I’ll clean up the mess.”

 

     But Carol stood, as if unable to move.  After a moment or two, she looked directly into Therese’s eyes for what seemed like the first time in weeks.  She was saying something, though she couldn’t make her lips move.  Asking something.  Of this Therese was sure.  So she screwed up her own courage, and took the first step, ever aware she was afraid of being slapped away.  “What can I do?  Can I…do you need…Carol, can I just hug you?  You look miserable.”  The blue gray eyes filled with tears, and Carol nodded.

 

     “Yes.  _Please.”_ So Therese drew near, her heart thumping painfully.  She slid her arms around the taller woman’s waist so softly it made them both ache.  They slid up to her shoulders, stiff with memory and fear and the terror of need.  Therese breathed her in as if they’d been apart for months, loving her scent, her warmth, her very bones and sinew and the muscles that trembled beneath her hands.

 

     “Carol,” she breathed.  “I’m here, love.”  They stood silently holding each other, unaware of the passage of time, feeling no need to speak and having no words to say.  Eventually, Carol realized she felt chilled, from the wet clothing and perhaps even more so, from her self-imposed time in exile from this woman’s touch.  She shivered, from cold and vulnerability and pain.

 

     “I’m cold.”  Therese nodded her response, rubbing the area between the other woman’s shoulder blades as she brought her arms back.  “Go change, Carol.  I’ll clean up the mess.  Go get comfortable.”  But Carol grabbed her hands, unwilling yet to let the young woman step away, needing her near.  She cleared her throat and worked on finding her voice, but did not succeed.  Instead, she shook her elegant head.

 

     Therese felt her heart fill, though she couldn’t have said with what.  She brought a tentative hand to the side of Carol’s face, marveling at how soft and warm her skin felt.  “Tell me.  Tell me what you need, if you can.  I know it’s…so hard.  But try,” she directed, aware of her own caution now.

 

     Carol’s chest rose and fell, rose and fell.  She cleared her throat again, then spoke, her deep voice scratchy and measured.  “I need you near, Therese.  So I can feel you.  Feel _something_ through this… godawful cold inside me.  I need to feel _you_.  Please.”  The younger woman felt her heart turn over at the significance of the moment, at the courage it took for Carol to ask for what she needed.  The deep emerald eyes filled with tears of relief, and Therese nodded almost imperceptively.  She reached for her companion’s hands, squeezing gently.  “Come, then.”

 

     When they reached the bedroom, the younger woman turned, taking in Carol’s ruined dress clothes.  She reached for the top button on her blouse and began unbuttoning slowly.  She noticed her quick shiver and wasn’t sure it was from cold.  Looking at Carol’s open, unguarded eyes, she whispered, “Are you okay?  Is this okay?”  When she received a nodded response, Therese continued working at her task, pushing the wet garment from Carol’s shoulders, then reaching for the clasp of her skirt.

 

     One by one, Carol’s garments were removed, and with each, a new piece of skin was exposed.  Therese kissed tenderly, perhaps like she might a baby, glorying at the feel of the warm, silky skin beneath her lips and hands.  A little kiss here, a little kiss there, until her lover stood naked in front of her.  Heart pounding, Therese wet her lips, feeling the blood begin to pour into her hands and groin.  She groaned at the sight of Carol’s exposed body, so stunningly beautiful it was like standing with a marble statue, but a living, breathing, very soft and warm one.

 

     Stepping closer, Therese brought her lips to the exquisite hollow of Carol’s throat, unable to stop herself from kissing it erotically, as she would her lips.  The other woman breathed out almost harshly, then groaned.  “Therese, please…darling, please,” she panted, her hands moving ineffectually, batting at the surrounding air that seemed to pulsate with life, with need, with love.  She reached for the band of Therese’s lightweight sweater, pulling it up and over her head.  As Carol reached for the waistband of her skirt, her tears began to fall.  When it reached Therese’s feet, they began to pour forth in earnest.  She unhooked her bra and tossed it aside, then shimmied her panties down over her slim hips, all the while sniffling and struggling to see through her copious tears.

 

     By the time she stood, Carol found she could barely breathe.  She heaved out a tremulous sigh, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.  When she spoke, her voice cracked.  “Please lay with me.”  Therese only nodded, unable to speak.  She moved to the side of the bed and pulled back the covers.  Carol got in on her side, and Therese on hers, and when they met in the middle they fell into each other’s arms. 

 

     Therese could feel herself shaking, with passion and need and desire, and a love so deep it literally hurt her chest in the very area her heart was pounding out its wild rhythm.  She struggled to catch her breath, and when she did, found Carol’s lips with her own.  After so long, their kiss felt desperately needy, but so very good, so very right.  The younger woman thrust her tongue deep, and Carol gave as she received, their lips and tongues entwined, sucking, nipping, caressing, enticing.

 

     “Oh, Carol,” Therese breathed on a sigh.  “Oh, I’ve missed you.  I’ve missed…this,” she murmured, her lips moving now to the pulse point behind her lover’s ear.  She heard her hiss through her teeth, and this drove the younger woman on, her tongue tracing the delicate underside of Carol’s jawbone, then making its way behind her other ear, where it swirled erotically, almost greedily.

 

     The slender brunette moved, swinging a leg gracefully over Carol’s hips, then planting her hands on either side of her head.  She gazed down directly into her eyes, which were almost black with arousal now.  Moving her hips in an unconscious, very seductive fashion, Therese whispered, “I need you to be with me, Carol.  Can you?  I need to…” one of her hands found a breast, then an already erect nipple which she pinched, making Carol gasp.   “I want to get so close to you, love.”  She kissed her nipple, tonguing it, and Carol groaned.  “So close.  I want to get…beyond the…armor.”  She kissed the other nipple, biting down lightly, then swirled her tongue around the turgid surface.  Carol’s hands flew to Therese’s head, her fingers thrusting through the silky hair, then pressing it more closely to her breast.  The older woman’s hips moved suggestively, pleading for more, and she pushed Therese lower, where she needed her so badly.

 

     Therese kissed her abdomen, then moved to a pointed hipbone, tonguing her way to the other, reveling in the gasps and moans being pulled from Carol’s swollen lips.  Looking at the crown of golden curls above her womb, Therese was once again stunned by the beauty of this woman.  She ran her hands, gentle as silk, along Carol’s soft inner thighs, following with her lips, her tongue tasting greedily that which she had ached for, for far too long.

 

     She settled herself between Carol’s legs, then paused as the awareness unexpectedly flooded her being.   _I was born to love this woman._  She felt she could fly then, right up to the sun, which seemed to illuminate her consciousness and turn her into a human flame, a pulsing light.  Looking up, she found Carol gazing down at her, and the trust Therese saw in her dark eyes broke her heart. 

 

     The armor was falling away.  Therese tasted Carol’s essence, loving the woman with her tongue and lips, as fleeting images floated by like actors in a play of whimsy.  The green sweater.  A gray skirt.  Red dress.  Blue raincoat.  Orange scarf.  They went dancing by, finding their way out the bedroom window, where the early evening Manhattan sky was more than big enough to take them in.

 

     She moved her fingers, slowly filling Carol’s wet center until she could go no further.  Carol cried out.  “Therese…darling…oh, my darling…”  Her tears began to flow as she moved, and it felt _so good_ to let them go, to let them fall in this bedroom, with this woman, her woman.  When she felt Therese suckle her most sensitive spot, Carol cried out again, not caring anymore.  _No more silence.  Let me tell her._   _Let her know!_  The young lover did magic things, and Carol climbed higher, groaned louder, cried more.  She moved her hips in a frenzy, and Therese moved her fingers ever deeper, all the while sucking and tonguing and oh!  The sheer bliss, the wonder of this love!  The beauty of this blessed release!

 

     When Carol’s body finally stopped quivering, Therese crawled up beside her, bringing their lips together immediately.  She ran gentle fingertips along her hip and abdomen, then back up to lightly stroke the curve of her shoulder.  And all the while she kissed her, dropping sweet, tender kisses all over Carol’s face, as if she was a baby bird, fresh and rumpled and new.

 

     Carol brought her hands to Therese’s face, cupping her cheeks with tenderness.  She didn’t quite have the right words and thought perhaps they didn’t exist.  Still, she wanted to try, needed to move beyond her silence.  Running a thumb over Therese’s bottom lip, she whispered, “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.  I’m trying to heal.  And I love you… _so much.”_

 

     Therese smiled, her face layered with tenderness and joy.  She leaned to kiss her once, then again.  “It’s enough, Carol.  It’s more than enough.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you. Always..thank you.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To know even one life  
> has breathed easier  
> because you have lived.  
> This is to have succeeded.
> 
> Ralph Waldo Emerson
> 
>  
> 
> Hello, sun in my face.  
> Hello, you who made  
> the morning and spread  
> it over the fields...  
> Watch, now, how I start  
> the day in happiness,  
> in kindness.
> 
> Mary Oliver

 

     Therese turned her head, taking in the sight of Sr. Alicia’s cherubic face, her cheeks flushed with heat and excitement.  This delighted the younger woman, and her heart filled with joy that she was here at Yankee Stadium, and she was off work, and Dannie had been able to acquire two tickets to the ballgame, and she was with her dear friend and mentor.

 

     She smiled fondly, and then blurted, “Alicia, I’m so glad you have hair!”  Alicia’s head pivoted, an amused look on her face.  Therese’s hand flew to her mouth as her emerald eyes widened with surprised dismay.  “Oh…that’s not what I was thinking, not what I was…meaning to say…”

 

     The elderly nun let go with one of her trademark bursts of laughter.  “Therese, dear, why change now?”  She laughed again, a light, happy sound, like windchimes in a warm summer breeze.  “You’ve always been completely honest…especially with me!  But tell me, why do you seem so relieved I have hair?”  She smiled again, still amused, then lifted another peanut to her mouth and took a grateful bite. 

 

     Distracted, Therese gazed down at the growing pile of cracked shells in the lap of Alicia’s brown tunic.  The older woman was thoroughly enjoying her treat, which she munched on between sips of Coca-Cola, because “what’s a ballgame without peanuts and a Coke?”  Therese smiled, then allowed herself to contemplate her unexpected comment.  “Oh, well…Billy and I used to worry that they made you shave your head when you became a nun.  Actually, a lot of us wondered about that, now that I think about it,” she observed, then took a sip of her own drink. 

 

     The other woman nodded, her expression understanding.  “Of course, you did.  Nuns must seem very ominous, to say the least.  But thank heavens, Franciscans don’t require shaved heads.”  She chomped on another peanut with a quick glance at the action on the field.  “Two outs, two on.  We need a hit.”  Without taking her eyes from the field, Alicia asked, “Tell me dear, do you ever wonder what happened to Billy?”

 

     The crack of the bat and roar of the crowd halted their conversation as both women erupted in cheers, Alicia for the Yankees, who’d just scored two runs, and Therese, because she was pleased to see her friend so excited.  Therese thought she must be terribly hot, wearing her habit and brown tunic on a warm and humid New York City summer afternoon.  But Alicia never complained, and her flushed face reflected only pleasure and excitement. 

 

     The nun took a sip of her Coke, then cocked her head, looking at Therese expectantly.  “So…Billy?  Do you ever wonder about him?”  She cracked open another peanut, tossing the shell in her lap.  Therese found this endearing and amusing.  She smiled fondly, loving the nun and all her eccentricities.

 

     “Yes, I think about him,” she replied, gazing out on the field and watching the Yankee batter position himself before the next pitch.  In their baggy uniforms, Therese thought the players mimicked ants in a factory, hard at work on a project only they understood.  “He was like a little brother to me, Alicia.  The only friend I had at St. Agatha’s, really…besides you.  Billy made life tolerable.  I was beyond crushed when he was adopted,” she whispered, so softly Alicia had to lean toward the slim brunette to hear her.

 

     “He’d be about twenty-two now,” Therese continued.  “A young man…maybe in college?  God, I can’t imagine that, all grown…”  Her voice faded away, and ballpark sounds stood out once again.  The organist playing a rousing cheer.  Laughter.  Two men discussing the opposing pitcher.  Vendors hawking hot dogs.  The quieter murmur of women, friends like themselves, chatting amiably with distracted glances at the action on the field.

 

     “Alicia?” Therese asked, then cracked open a peanut with her front teeth.

 

     “Yes, dear?”

 

     “How will I know if I want to have a baby?”  Therese looked at Alicia briefly, her dark eyebrows curved like question marks above her deep, clear, emerald eyes, her jaws working on the peanut. The older woman smiled with tenderness.  It didn’t take a swami to intuit the connections in Therese’s thought processes.  She reached over to squeeze her hand, the baseball game fading into the background now.

 

     “Well, dear, your life is with Carol.  And unless she has some miraculous capacity I don’t know about, you have a… _sperm problem_?” she stated, though in a softer voice.  Though no one was seated next to them, Alicia didn’t want to take any chances of being overheard.

 

     “Oh, I know,” Therese replied, clearly disgruntled.  She chomped on another peanut shell with some agitation.  “I know, Alicia.  Even thinking about a baby seems like a wild dream.  Maybe a foolish one.”  She paused as the crowd cheered again, watching as the Yankee batter raced around first base.  She supposed she should cheer, but didn’t. 

 

     “I can’t help it, though.  And the thoughts keep coming back to me!  Maybe it’s natural…I’m twenty-four now, and so many women my age are mothers, or soon to become them.”  She sighed.  “I love Carol more than anything, Alicia.  I’m so happy with the life we’re making!  But sometimes my imagination just goes!  What if we could raise a child together?  Have a family of our own?  A sibling for Rindy?”  She turned to look Alicia in the eyes.  “Why won’t the thoughts go away?”

 

       The older woman smiled tenderly.  “I don’t know, darling.  Part of it may be biological.  Perhaps it’s a natural desire to yearn for a family when you’re so in love with someone, as you are with Carol.”  She reached over again to squeeze Therese’s fine-boned hand.  “It’s not going to surprise you that I think you should pray about it, right?”

 

     Therese laughed and nodded, rolling her eyes.  “Hardly!”

 

     Alicia smiled, her blue eyes ever-twinkling, her brows curled earnestly under her habit.  “Therese, dear, I want you to ponder something,” she suggested, just as another roar went up from the crowd.  The two women whipped their heads around just in time to see the baseball launched over the centerfield fence and the Yankee hitter raise his arms jubilantly as he watched its flight.  Unable to help herself, Alicia applauded vigorously, then yelled, “Whoo-hoo!  That was Mickey!  Go Mickey!”  The nun loved Mickey Mantle, and Therese laughed out of the pure joy of seeing her beloved friend erupt in such happiness.

 

     Alicia turned again to Therese, her round face flushed with exuberance.  “Wow!  A home run!  That was great!  Sorry about that, dear one, I got carried away…”  She settled herself back in her stadium seat, taking a grateful sip of her drink.  “What was I saying?”

 

     “Something about what I’m supposed to ponder…”

 

     “Oh, yes!”  The Franciscan sister’s smile was so wide Therese was surprised her habit didn’t get knocked off by her smooth, full cheeks.  “It’s just this.  Whether you have a baby or not, a big part of the richness in life comes from the life you create with your own life.”  She said this as if it made perfect sense, popping a peanut in her mouth with satisfaction.

 

     Therese stared at her for a moment, then looked out over the ballfield, deep in thought.  She took a deep breath, smoothing the bangs away from her face with a graceful hand.  “I think I get it, but…”

 

     “I can only speak from my own experience, and maybe some hard-earned wisdom.  As a nun,” Alicia offered, shifting in her seat in an effort to make her ornery, arthritic hip more comfortable, “I knew as a novice I was committing myself to a life in which I’d never be a mother.  All of us sisters know this, Therese.”

 

     “But it doesn’t mean the desire to mother, or live a full, loving life goes away.  I’ve had to find other ways to express my love, to _create_ life.  It’s a deeply personal process.  A spiritual one for me, dear.  But it’s also so worth it.  Trust me!  We can all bring life or death, any moment of any day.  _So you ask_ _yourself, am I living a life-giving life?_ And then you make your choices.” 

 

     Alicia leaned over with some difficulty so she could kiss Therese’s cheek, grasping her fingers firmly as she did.  The young brunette returned her kiss, loving the feel of her friend’s smooth, powdery skin.  She smiled sweetly, her deep green eyes soft with love.

 

     “And having a baby?  Do I just forget about those desires?”

 

     “Heavens no, dear one!  Those are sacred.  So pray about it!  And look for signs.  _Always look for signs.”_

 

                                       ____________________________________________

 

     Therese let herself into the apartment just before the dinner hour.  Carol was sitting at the kitchen table sorting through the day’s mail, still in her work clothes, though her elegant pumps were kicked aside.  She smiled at the sight of her young lover, dressed in dark blue pedal pushers and a light blue, short-sleeved blouse.  Her face was pink from sun exposure, her silky brunette hair in windblown disarray, and Carol thought her simply irresistible.  “Well, hello darling!” she drawled, “Aren’t you just the most perfect sight!”

 

     Therese returned a beaming smile, her eyes clearly expressing her affection for the older woman.  Taking a few steps to bridge the gap between them, she took the envelope from Carol’s hands and tossed it on the table.  She brought a limber leg around and deposited herself in her lap with her slender arms around Carol’s neck.  Then she happily buried her face in her shoulder, breathing in the scent she loved while hugging her tightly.

 

     Carol closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of the young woman in her arms.  “Mm.  This is lovely.  Welcome home, sweetheart.  You smell like fresh air and hot dogs.  Did you have fun?  Did the Yankees win?”  She stroked Therese’s back, making slow, soothing circles, enjoying the warmth generated between them.

 

     Therese ignored the question, partly because it occurred to her she had no idea who won.  Instead, she blurted, “Do you think I’m creating life or death?”  Unable to help herself, Carol gave a burst of laughter, putting Therese slightly away so she could see her face.  It bore a serious, concerned expression.  Tilting her head, Carol answered, “Obviously, you’ve been hanging out with Alicia!”  She couldn’t keep the amusement out of her voice.  “Who else could you be at a baseball game with and come home with such ponderous thoughts on your mind?” 

 

     Unable to help herself, Carol leaned closer and placed a kiss on each of Therese’s eyelids, as if trying to chase away the seriousness she saw there.  Then she kissed her lips lightly and brought their foreheads together.  “I’m sorry for laughing at you, sweetheart.  You just look so serious and sound so…worried?”  She leaned back, looking into Therese’s clear, deep green eyes.  _Green.  Her eyes are the color of springtime.  New life._

Cupping her cheek tenderly, Carol spoke, her own voice carrying a note of serious honesty.  “Darling, I’ve never known anyone who brought more life than you.  You’re brimming with it!  The last thing I would associate with you would be… _death,”_ she observed, almost with a shiver.

 

     Therese took a deep breath, then replied, “Really?  I hope so, Carol!  I had the best conversation with Alicia, I want to tell you all about it!  I want us--our relationship—to be life-giving!  And maybe we can talk about how…and—” She spun her dark head around, distracted.  “Where’s Benny?”

 

     “He’s out for his walk with Cathy,” Carol answered, mentioning the young high school neighbor they’d hired as a pet-helper.  She smiled fondly at Therese.  The young woman usually came back from her visits with Alicia bursting with energy and love, her cup filled and running over, usually to invigorate Carol, too.  

 

     “Darling, let me change, and we’ll cook dinner together and talk more, okay?”  She kissed her again, her tongue coming out lightly, tasting the saltiness of peanuts in the corner of Therese’s mouth.  She embraced her face, running a thumb over a fine-boned cheek.  Then Carol smiled.

 

     “And sweetheart, for our relationship to be life-giving?  I want that, too!”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this! I actually have no idea where these "Interludes" are headed, or for how long...but it is a joy to follow, and take notes.
> 
> I so appreciate your company!


	4. Chapter 4

  

     It was the end of a long work week, and both Carol and Therese were tired.  After dinner found them on their balcony, each sipping on a glass of chilled white wine.  Down below, pedestrians bustled along Madison Avenue, filled even at this hour with the predictable medley of moving cars, beeping horns, and an occasional irate shout from a motorist, seemingly powered up the walls of their building by frustration.

 

     Therese took another sip, staring out at the city lights while enjoying the relaxing effects of the alcohol.  It had been a grueling week, and she was grateful to be home with Carol, perched high above and away from the harsh grime of the city and its incessant demands.  Unconsciously, she sighed, rolling her neck and dropping her shoulders.

 

     “Well,” came Carol’s deep-voiced drawl, “that was quite a sigh, darling.”  The lovely blond peered at her closely from behind the luxurious veil of her silky, blond hair, eyebrows raised in inquiry.  “Is everything okay?”  Therese’s face bore a certain distraction, and her emerald eyes looked somewhat shadowed in the fading light.  She shrugged her slender shoulders, then smiled faintly.  “Yes.  Everything is good, I think.  Just tired!  This was a very hard week at the office.  God, it was stressful!  Too much to keep up with.”  She rolled her neck again.  “My neck muscles feel like coiled springs.  Ugh!”

 

     Carol studied the younger woman for a few moments, then placed her wine goblet on the side table.  Scooting back in her seat, she motioned to the indoor-outdoor rug at her feet.  “Come sit, darling.  I’ll work on your muscles.”  Therese’s face lit up with surprised delight.  “Really?  Oh, that would be wonderful!”  As soon as she settled at Carol’s feet, the older woman’s hands found the tight muscles at the base of her neck.

 

     “Sweetheart, these are a mess!  So tight and…knotted,” Carol observed, and Therese yelped in pain.  “Ow!  God, Carol, that hurts.”  She groaned again, hanging her neck and moving it from side to side.  “But…please, don’t stop.  I must be tighter than I thought.”  Carol’s competent hands began kneading, her thumbs applying firm pressure to the corded tissue.  For several minutes, they were quiet, except for an occasional sigh from Therese.  Carol bent to place an occasional kiss on her hair, which swayed in the merest whisper of a breeze.

 

     “I hear you thinking,” Therese stated eventually, and Carol laughed before replying, “You always hear me thinking!”  Reaching up for one of her hands, Therese squeezed gently.  “So…spill.  Tell me, because these thoughts feel kind of heavy.”

 

     Carol paused, considering her words, her brow furrowing as she wondered if she should say anything at this particular time.  Therese tugged her hand again.  “Come on, Carol!  If you don’t tell me, I’ll get stressed wondering.”  The older woman laughed again, the tenor throaty and deep.  “Well, that would defeat the purpose of what I’m doing, now wouldn’t it?”  Her purely rhetorical question lingered in the cooling air only for a moment.  “I’ve just noticed, sweetheart…this week you’ve been distracted and kind of…tense.  And yes, work was stressful and all, but I also wonder…”  Another tug at her hand had her deciding to plunge onward. 

 

     “Could it be…do you think…that part of the stress you’ve felt is the aftereffects of Mother’s Day?”  Unconsciously, the movements of her hands became soothing, her fingertips stroking Therese’s warm skin to comfort.  “I know this year was nothing like last year, for either of us.  It was a lovely day…fun with Rindy…and you didn’t seem troubled.  Or _too_ sad, darling.  I felt your sadness about your own mother, but you didn’t seem to fall into that pit like you did last year.”  Her hands stilled.  “Am I right?”

 

     In front of her, Therese sighed, then rolled her neck muscles.  She shivered involuntarily.  The slender young woman rose gracefully to her feet, aware she felt a sudden chill.  Without saying a word, she pushed Carol back in her seat, then sat in her lap.  She slid her arms around her waist and clasped firmly.  Then, taking a deep breath, she lay her head in the crook of Carol’s shoulder, where the older woman could feel warm breath against her neck.

 

     Carol tightened her arms.  “Tell me,” she directed in a gentle voice.  She could smell wine on Therese’s breath, a pleasant, sweet smell that blended with the scent her soap, her shampoo, and the warmth of her skin after a long summer’s day.  Carol closed her eyes, inhaling deeply.  _I would sit here like this all night long, if you wanted me to._   She kissed the top of her head and waited.

 

     Therese sat quietly for several minutes, loving the solid warmth of Carol’s physical presence, finding strength in the steady beat of her heart.  Her fingers found their way between the buttons on her blouse, suddenly aching for the tender skin.  She needed the warmth she found there.  Finally, she took a deep breath.  “It _was_ a better Mother’s Day, Carol,” she acknowledged with a smile in her voice.  “It was so much fun having Rindy with us and sharing the day with you both.”  Therese reached up to leave a kiss on Carol’s chin.  “You are such a great mom!  She is so lucky to have you.”

 

     The younger woman shrugged, settling deeper into her companion’s arms, if that was possible.  “But I don’t know.  Maybe you’re right about this… _tension_ I can’t seem to lose this week.  I know a big part of it is work.  But the thoughts come.  I think of her,” she added, not needing to clarify further.

 

     Carol kissed her forehead, smoothing soft locks of hair away from her face and tucking them behind a shell-like ear.  “Good thoughts?  Bad thoughts?  Although,” she hesitated, “maybe with your mom there’s only bad thoughts?”

 

     Therese shook her head.  “That’s just it, Carol.  My thoughts aren’t all bad anymore.  Sometimes there’s no feeling at all attached, and I just—” She stopped, falling silent.

 

     “And you just…” Carol prompted, her fingers still stroking.

 

     “I almost miss the hatred!”  Therese’s chest heaved in agitation.  “I _knew_ hatred!  I’m good at hating my mother!  Now there’s just this empty space…this blankness,” she whispered, and Carol ached with a need to fill it, even as she knew she could not.  The younger woman sighed.  “I don’t know what to _do_ with the space.”

 

     “Maybe you don’t _do_ anything, sweetheart.  Maybe it just _is_ , you know?”

 

     Therese sat up, turning to look at Carol.  Her face was partly hidden in the lengthening evening shadows now, and Therese brought an absent-minded hand up to stroke the smoothness of her cheek, loving its velvety warmth   Smiling wryly, she replied, “You kind of sound like Alicia.”

 

     Carol chuckled in disbelief.  “I do?  I can hardly imagine that.  What does she have to say?”

 

     “Oh…that I should _be_ with the hole left by not having a mom who mothered me.  That I should…how did she put it?  _Be present_ to it!  What the hell does that mean, Carol?”  She attempted to mimic Alicia’s soothing, reassuring voice and diction.  _“Therese, darling, just be present to the space!  Sit with it!  Ask it_ _if it has something it needs you to know!”_

 

     Therese sounded so disgruntled, with her lovely face twisted into such an adorable grimace that Carol couldn’t help but laugh.  “You sound like she asked you to swallow cough medicine!”  She kissed her once, then again, unable to resist her pouting lips.  “What’s so bad about _being present_ to the space?”

 

     “Oh, I don’t know.  Maybe nothing.  Hating my mom just felt so much more productive.  That I could do.  I was good at it!”  Turning her head, Therese gazed out at the lights of Manhattan.  They glowed like fireflies against the growing darkness and shimmered in countless windows.  It soothed her, and she could feel her body relaxing again.  “Everyone should have a light in the darkness,” she murmured.

 

     Carol silently agreed, her heart warm with love.  Therese kept looking out for a few more moments, then sighed and turned her face.  “Do you think the space has anything to tell me, Carol?” she asked softly.  “I’m not sure I even know how to just be with it, but if I can…will it tell me something?”

 

     The older woman reached her arms more fully around Therese and drew her securely to her breast.  She brushed her lips against her temple.  “I don’t really know, sweetheart.  It sounds a bit odd, I suppose.”  But then an insight came to her, like a flash of fire in a pan.  Carol tightened her arms, a grateful smile on her face.  “Therese, honey…maybe it’s like waiting for one of your photographs.”

 

     Therese went still, knowing exactly what Carol was trying to say.

 

     “You know,” Carol mused, “you begin with this…space...this knowing that the picture is out there.  And you just stay with it, and wait, and—”

 

     “—eventually the right picture appears!”  Therese finished the sentence as awareness flooded her entire being. _Yes!  This I know!  I can do this!_ She sat up again, her white teeth flashing in the dim light.  The young woman leaned to kiss Carol gently on the lips.  “Carol, thank you!  I get it!  I can do that, I think.  Wait with the empty space, to see if a picture wants to speak.” 

 

     Carol sensed a completely different energy in her young lover now.  Her lithe young body seemed to both relax and pulsate with life, almost as if the slightest earthen tremors were shaking its core.  She took and released a grateful breath, then leaned and kissed Therese’s cheek.

 

     “You won’t be alone, darling.”  Carol’s blue eyes reassured as she looked directly at Therese.  “I’m with you.  I’ll just sit with you, with that empty space any time you need, okay?”

_“Holding the space,”_ Therese murmured, as another piece of the puzzle snapped into place.  “That’s what Alicia calls it.  You’ll hold the space with me.”  Carol nodded, a warm love seeping through her.  “Mm-hm.  I will.  I’ll just be with you there, any time you need.”

 

     Darkness was completely enveloping the city now, a velvet blanket to surround its ever-beating heart.  On the balcony, a sense of deep peace had settled, and neither woman felt the need to anything but sit together in the quiet space they shared.  Eventually, Therese stood, looking around for the wine in the dim light.  She refilled their glasses and held hers up to Carol.

 

     “Here’s to you!  My wonderful lover and the best friend!”

 

     Carol raised her own glass, tenderness on her face.  “Here’s to you, too, sweetheart.  And here’s to us!”

 

 

                                 ________________________________________________

 

     “Alicia, to tell you the truth, I _much preferred_ hating my mother!  It made me feel powerful!”  It was several days later, and Therese was recounting the weekend’s conversation with Carol for Alicia.  She had the phone propped under her chin as she attempted to twist open a jar of pickles.  On the other end of the line, Alicia laughed.

 

     “Therese, dear, of course you preferred the anger.  That’s how you’ve always reacted when it comes to her.  And trust me, I know it makes you feel powerful.  Remember, I lived through your adolescence with you!”  Alice laughed again, and images of a much younger Therese appeared before her eyes, green eyes flashing, cheeks flaming red, and her mop of thick, dark hair in stormy disarray.

 

     Therese felt chastened.  Putting the jar down, she pulled the phone cord until she could sit in a kitchen chair.  “Alicia, I’m so sorry.  That makes me feel bad,” she said in a much more subdued voice.  “Was I a complete jerk?”

 

     “Sometimes, Therese, yes.  But I knew you were hurting, and I was also surrounded by many other adolescents who could act like jerks,” Alicia replied quite honestly.  “Don’t beat yourself up, dear.  The way you grow is to understand your behaviors, then change them if you can.”

 

     “I just don’t like letting go of this anger!  I feel vulnerable without it.  And…now it seems there’s nothing connecting me to my mom,” she admitted, running a fingernail in the grooves in the wooden table top. “I feel like I have to put _something_ in that space.  I don’t _like_ being with this…emptiness.”  Her voice sounded so forlorn that Alicia felt her heart clench.  She wished she was with Therese and could hug the young woman.

 

     “Therese, if I’m not mistaken, not many of us like sitting with our emptiness, with our spaces.  That’s why we’ll do almost anything to fill them up!  Myself included, dear one.”  In her room at the convent, the old Franciscan nun closed her eyes momentarily. _Lord, help me help this child.  It’s so hard being human!_ “But if you can stay with it, a space can speak, dear.  It can change almost without you knowing it, be filled from the inside out.  _It reveals itself to you!_   Trust me…I’ve lived this many times.  You just have to stay with it.”

 

     The younger woman sighed deeply, feeling frustrated and sad.  She was silent for several moments, until eventually, Alicia spoke again.  “Therese, I am going to really set an intention to pray that you can remain strong as you wait, okay?”

 

     “And what am I waiting for?” Therese asked with some fear.

 

     “Well, I don’t know for sure.  But I think you’ve been talking to me about needing revelation, and movement, and release.  And I can still hear you longing on some level…maybe you need clarity about what you’re longing for.”

Therese felt overwhelmed now and wished the phone cord stretched to the whiskey bottle.  “Why do I even want to do this, Alicia?  Be present to the space…or find my truth…or stay with my life?  Remind me why,” she pleaded.

 

     Alicia made soothing, nonsensical sounds.  “Child, can you really do anything else?  I’ve known you since you were three,” she said, and a momentary flash of something quite bittersweet shot through Therese’s heart, “and you were never going to be someone who only scratched the surface!  You were born with the soul of an artist.  You felt more, saw more, experienced more…Do you really think you can turn that off now?  Or that doing so would be wise?”

 

     Therese sighed heavily.  “Alicia, I just want to ask _why?”_

 

     Without missing a beat, Alicia replied, “Then try something a little different: Ask _why not?_ And say _thank you.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I appreciate you, your companionship, your insights, and the thoughts you share with me.
> 
> Peace, as always.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To live is so startling  
> it leaves little time  
> for anything else.  
>  Emily Dickinson
> 
>  
> 
> Find ecstasy in life:  
> the mere sense of living  
> is joy enough  
>  Emily Dickinson

     Carol stared at the road ahead, a dubious expression on her flushed face.  The heat on this late June day was stifling, and sweat glistened on her arms and forehead, even trickled down the hollow of her back as if her spinal column was the river Nile.  She felt like a wet dishrag and longed to be inside, away from the weather conditions that made her feel she could rip someone’s head off.  Trying to keep the irritation out of her voice, she glanced at her equally sweaty girlfriend and asked, “How much longer until we turn around, sweetheart?”

 

     Therese was drinking water from the canteen, grimacing.  It tasted like warm metal and wool and was anything but refreshing.  But she swallowed gamely, knowing her body needed to replenish itself in this heat, especially with the amount of exercise they were doing.  Pushing damp, curling tendrils of hair off her forehead, she considered the question.  “Well, I’m not sure.”  Her voice sounded hoarse, perhaps from having sucked cottonwood seeds down her throat for the last hour or so.  “Dannie said he and Phil finished in just over two hours, so it seems we should come to the turnaround very soon.”  The young woman smiled brilliantly, her dimples flashing like crescent moons rising in a sunset red sky.

 

     Carol sighed.  _That smile, those dimples.  They get me every time._   She felt her sour attitude dissipating.  “And remind me whose idea it was for us to ride a tandem bicycle?”

 

     “Carol!  We both agreed on this!” Therese exclaimed, her green eyes widening.  “Don’t you remember the part about how we’re too sedentary…our thighs are getting flabby…”

 

     _“My_ thighs are getting flabby, sweetheart,” Carol interrupted.  “Yours are firm and slim!  And I’ve changed my mind anyhow,” she said with another look at the incline in the road ahead of them.  “Me and my flabby thighs want to be on our balcony with a whiskey and cigarette.  The hell with exercising.  This is too uncomfortable!”

 

     Therese burst out laughing.  Placing the canteen on the dusty ground, she came to Carol.  The older woman had a petulant look on her flushed face, her blue, short-sleeved blouse was damp and wrinkled, and her pedal pushers had sweat stains around the knees.  Therese thought she looked ravishing, and the scent that was Carol’s alone was only intensified in the humidity.  Soap and fragrance and all that _heated_ _skin_.  A quick spasm of arousal shot through the younger woman’s solar plexus, and she lifted herself on tip-toes to kiss Carol’s cheek. 

 

     “I’ll love your thighs regardless,” she breathed, “firm or flabby or…however…”  She smiled again, then did her best to put a serious look on her face.  “But we need to stick with what we discussed, Carol.  Exercising is good for our health!  We’ll be able to stay active with Rindy. That’s why we’re here, remember.  It’s good for us.”  Therese’s voice sounded diffident, and Carol smirked.  _Neither of us are_ _really into this, I see._   _Well, we’ll make the best_ _of it._ “Uh-huh.  It’s good for us,” she replied, still unable to keep the doubt out of her voice, but with a cheery smile nonetheless.  “Alright then, Therese.  Off we go.”

 

     The younger woman beamed.  “How about if we take turns with being in front?  The wind is gusting and it’s not pleasant getting hit by it.  Sound good?”  Carol nodded.  “Sure, sweetheart.  You want me to go first?  You’ve been up there since we started.”

 

     Therese shook her head as she put the canteen back in the front basket.  “Nope.  I’m good for a bit.  Let me try to make it to the top of this hill.  Come on, Carol.  Onward!”  She giggled, and the two women situated themselves back on the blue tandem-bicycle, kicking out of the dusty gravel and steering toward the blacktopped, two lane road.  Their immediate task of pedaling up the long, gently inclining hill was made somewhat more pleasant by the beautiful surroundings.  On this backcountry road, the trees were thick and shade plentiful.  Weeping willow, oak, maple, elm, sweet gum and sycamore were thick with leaves on this mid-July day, the full bounty of a New York summer in all its deep green splendor.  Somewhere to their right was a stream bubbling underneath the trees, out of view but not earshot.

 

     Unfortunately for Carol, the surrounding beauty was lost on her.  As they began their climb, she was most aware of the wind gusting around them, filling her ears with the roar of a freight train.  Within minutes, her thighs were protesting, the muscles beginning a slow burn that had her gritting her teeth.  She was determined not to complain but couldn’t quite keep her gasps for air silent.

 

     Therese glanced over her shoulder briefly.  “You okay back there?  Is the pace good?” she asked, and her question was carried away by the strong breeze.

 

     Carol groaned.  “I’d rather be dead.”  Despite herself, Therese laughed, pedaling fiercely as her own thighs began to protest.  “It’s not that bad, Carol!” she huffed out.  “Look, we’re making progress!”

 

     “Oh, yes, it is!  _Jesus,_ this is hard!”  Carol was laboring for each breath, and there was an odd, metallic burn in her lungs.  “Let’s…throw this damn bike…in a ditch and…call a taxi.”  Therese laughed again in short, staccato puffs.  “We don’t have a phone!  And we’re…strong,” _huff-huff,_ “we’re two tough…,” _huff-huff,_ “women…,” _huff-huff, groan_ , “that no one would mess with!”

 

     Behind her, Carol grimaced in pain.  Her usually pale face was red with exertion and sweat glistened on her forehead and the sharp edges of her cheekbones.  Blond hair escaped the blue bandana she had wrapped around her head in damp tendrils.  Her shoulders, thighs, and calves were burning and her bottom was… “Oh, _my ass_!  It’s killing me!  I’m dying!  I’m dead.  I need to pee!” she almost wailed.

 

     Just then, a particularly strong gust of wind blasted the struggling women, bringing with it a cloud of dust.  A mass of tiny gnats flying in furious, dizzying circles swarmed their heads.  Therese sputtered.  She took a labored breath and sucked in a mouthful of the bugs.  “Oh!” she shouted.  “Carol!  Let’s…rest!”  She coughed to clear her airway, blindly steering the tandem bicycle to the roadside.  Coughing and hacking, the young woman shrieked.  “Oh, god!”  _Cough, cough._ Her eyes watered, she sneezed.  “Oh, gross!”

 

     Carol, too, was swatting at the little bugs. They buzzed in her ears and sought refuge in her nose, for some mysterious reason that had her bellowing in frustration.  “God!  Therese, this is just… _I have to_ _pee!”_   She looked around as if a restroom would suddenly appear by the roadside, then bolted through the tall grasses lining the road, heading for the tree line.

 

     Therese watched her go through watery eyes.  She rummaged through the front basket, pulling out the canteen and gulping down mouthfuls of the most disgusting water she had ever tasted.  She cringed, hoping bugs weren’t being washed down her throat.  “Dannie, I’m going to kill you,” she muttered.  She was almost immobilized with discomfort and felt horrible that she had coaxed Carol into this adventure with such alacrity.

 

     But when, a few moments later, Carol emerged from the trees, the younger woman felt her mood change almost instantly.  For here was Carol, her usually elegant, sophisticated partner, buttoning her pedal pushers by a roadside in backcountry New York.  Unable to help herself, Therese laughed.  It was all so incongruous, so ridiculous!  The laughter came loudly now.  “Carol!  I’m so sorry…”  More laughter.  “But you…you look like an escaped convict or something!” 

 

     The older woman stopped a few feet from Therese.  Her young lover looked… _wild._ Sweaty, grimy, and wind-blasted, with her dark hair like a shattered halo and those deep, emerald eyes brimming with tears of amusement.  Therese’s face was browned with dust and erratic speckles of dead bugs clung to her perspiration.  Carol shook her head.  “Oh, darling, and you look…oh, my…I don’t…”  A sudden whoop of laughter rose within Carol’s chest, escaping like a bubbling brook.  It broke through her tension, and she let it go into the warm, dense, summer air.

 

     Soon, both women were doubled over, and waves of laughter buffeted them.

 

     “You have dead bugs all over your face!”

 

     “Yours is all brown with dust!”  More laughter.  “Like the wrong shade of makeup!  A dirt-bronzed Carol Aird!”  Laughter, in fits of giggles.  “Oh, Carol!  What a mess!”  The laughter was cleansing, lifted by the breeze into such intense benediction that Carol was overwhelmed.  With discomfort, with joy, with… _life._   She reached for Therese, hauling her sweaty, slender body into her arms almost fiercely.  Carol put her hand on the back of Therese’s damp head, tucking it into her shoulder and burying her face in the greening, heated aromas that rose around them.

 

     “Oh, sweetheart!” she whispered.  She pressed their bodies together, quieted by fatigue and sudden, unexpected gratitude.  “Carol!” Therese murmured, eyes closed, inhaling deeply, tightening her arms around the taller woman’s slender waist.  She suddenly felt vulnerable, and dependent and… _never so_ _strong!_   “Oh…I just love you!”  Carol murmured in reply, a deep, low rumble that vibrated in the depths of her chest. 

    

     The two women clung to each other, quietly content.  Around them, the sounds of summer continued their symphony, wind and birdsong and crickets and leaves rustling in the strong breeze.  The road seemed to belong, blessedly, to them alone, with no cars or bicyclists or trucks to join them. 

 

     When finally, they drew apart, Carol looked down at Therese, bringing a hand to the side of her grimy face.  Smiling, she kissed her forehead.  “You smell like the woods,” she murmured.

 

     Therese stirred, tightening her arms.  She breathed in the scent of Carol’s shoulder, kissing it lightly.  “So do you…mixed with a certain…earthy odor?”

 

     Carol pulled back, chuckling.  “Well, darling, we’re both at our very best now, aren’t we?  So!  Let’s get on with this adventure!” she commanded, suddenly purposeful.

 

     Therese peered at the inclined road ahead with a dubious expression.  “How are we going to do this?  I don’t even know how much longer we have to go.”

 

     Carol shook her head.  “We don’t need to know.  And we’re going too do this together, sweetheart.  Little by little.”  She looked at the tandem, which had been dropped haphazardly on its side.  “We’re going to take turns in front, in the wind, for one thing.”  She looked at Therese.  “You’ve still got dead bugs on your cheek.  It’s my turn,” she observed, with only the merest shudder.

 

     Therese hesitated, her deep green eyes narrowed in discernment.  “Are you sure?  I got you into this mess, Carol!  I can bear the brunt the whole way,” she offered, even though she could see certainty on Carol’s flushed face.

 

     “No.  Come on, darling.  I’m in front, and let’s get on with this.  We’re going to get through this together, mess or no mess!”  She smiled, content despite their circumstances.  “Your mess is mine.  My mess is yours!”

 

     Therese smiled sweetly, with a shrug of her shoulders.  “Maybe this is love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sending a warm greeting to anyone who may still be reading! Hoping your days are filled with hope and your nights with peace. Bless you for your companionship here!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is in all living things  
> a hidden wholeness.  
>  Thomas Merton
> 
>  
> 
> Wholeness does not mean perfection;  
> it means embracing brokenness  
> as an integral part of life.  
>  Parker J. Palmer

 

     Therese and Alicia were sitting side by side on a stone bench in a shady alcove on the grounds of Pace de Christo Convent.  The sun was behind a bank of oak, maple, and sycamore trees that created a shaded canopy for their visit.  The late afternoon in July was very warm.  Sunshine had baked the flowers and vegetables in the gardens, and their scent permeating the air was intoxicating to Therese.  She watched aimlessly as a bluebird landed in a birdbath, its bright blue plumage and orange belly vivid against the gray stone.

 

     “That’s my favorite bird,” she said almost reverently, her voice hushed.

 

     Alicia nodded.  “It’s easy to see why.”  The nun was entranced, too, watching the bird as it dipped its feathers into the water, then shook itself before pausing and taking flight once again.  It was a serene setting for a visit.  Birds seemed to chirp from every direction, bees hummed in the patch of cone flowers, and the occasional butterfly would light on a blossom, much to the delight of the two friends.  “So tell me, Therese, what’s the reason for this melancholy I’m sensing in you?”

 

     The young brunette didn’t even pretend to be surprised at Alicia’s perceptiveness.  The woman was a sage of sages, her swami who had known her for a very long time.

 

     “Oh, I suppose it’s just the remnants of my emotional baggage from Father’s Day.  It’s never easy,” she answered.  “Father’s Day without a father…Mother’s Day without a mother…”  She sighed, watching the bees, so seemingly hard at work.  “Who invented these holidays, anyhow?  It had to be a sadist!  Every year my heart is stinging by July.”

 

     Her companion nodded.  “You and many others, I’m sure, dear.  Is it anything you’d like to talk about?”

 

     “No, not really, Alicia.  I end up feeling like a broken record.  A very damaged one.”  Therese shifted in her seat, reluctant to look too closely at her remnant wounds.  Alicia turned slightly, taking in the young woman’s beauty.  Her short, dark hair had a silken sheen, her skin was warmed to a flawless, pale pink, and the fine bones of her face and hands gave her the look of a porcelain doll.  The old nun thought her simply stunning.

 

     “And healing,” she noted.  Therese turned, making eye contact, held securely in Alicia’s peaceful, blue gaze.  Neither woman spoke for a moment, until Alicia said, “You’re healing, too, dear.  Try to remember that.”  Looking at her, Therese felt comforted, even if she couldn’t quite share Alicia’s perspective at the moment.  The nun smiled, her face a reflection of gentle acceptance.

 

     “It’s not that you’re either/or, Therese.  Try to see yourself as both/and.”  Contemplating her words, Therese found herself unable to understand.  _“Both/and?_ Both/and what?” she asked, her smooth brow furrowed in concentration.

 

     Alicia made a sudden decision.  “Help me up, would you?  I’m getting stiff now.  Let’s walk a bit.”  Obediently, the younger woman rose and extended her hand, assisting the nun to her feet with an arm around her waist.  They began to stroll quietly, the dappled sun warming their shoulders and slow-dancing with the shade on the path before them.  Alicia hobbled at first, her troublesome hip sore and her thoughts ponderous.

 

     After several minutes of silence, Therese spoke.  “Alicia?  Are you okay?”

 

     The nun pulled her gaze from the herb garden, pleased with its progress and pungent offerings.  “Oh, yes, I’m fine darling.  I’m sorry, just a bit distracted, I suppose.”

 

     “And?”

 

     “I’m remembering an old mentor of mine.  A wonderful woman!  You call me your ‘swami’, and I called Maria mine.  She taught me a lot, Therese…taught me how to see myself as _both/and.”_   The two women walked on in companionable silence.  Therese knew Alicia would speak when she was ready, and she was enjoying their silences.  They seemed to amplify the glorious chorus nature was singing all around them, feeding her in a way the streets of Manhattan never could.

 

     After a while, Alicia paused in front of a side garden where an old statue of St. Francis of Assisi stood amidst a patch of wildflowers.  A bird was nestled in his outstretched palm, two deer lay at his feet, and the expression on his face reflected nothing less than deep peace and leaping joy.  Alicia looked at Francis, then Therese, her own countenance looking like a clear mountain lake, placid and calm at sunset.

 

     “You didn’t know me back when I was raped,” she observed so bluntly that Therese cringed.  “Or in all the ensuing years, all the time I spent like a crazy woman, trying to go on with my life.  Back then, all I felt was _damaged._   Dirty, soiled, sullied…violated and…broken, never to be the same again, I fear.”  Therese reached out a tentative hand, touching the sleeve of Alicia’s brown tunic as if to ground her in the present.  The nun smiled in appreciation.

 

     “It’s okay, darling.  I’m okay!  More than okay!  That was a long time ago, and I’ve healed…”  She motioned to another stone bench, and they sat.  Therese had no idea why, but she was grateful for the seat, almost as if her legs couldn’t take another step just now.  “Maria was… _essential_ to my healing, Therese,” Alicia continued, “a touch of God’s hand.  She made me believe in myself, believe in God, even after I’d stopped…after I couldn’t take another step on a faith journey.”

 

     “Tell me how,” Therese coaxed, her voice almost a whisper, harmonizing with the leaves dancing in the warm breeze above them.

 

     The old nun gazed at St. Francis with a smile on her face.  Her round cheeks were pink in the summer heat, held and caressed by her habit as it blew in the soft breeze.  “Well, to be honest, I haven’t the slightest idea!”  She laughed in seeming amazement, and her matronly bosom laughed, too.   “I know she believed in me.  Held my hand.  When I told her the most horrific things, she didn’t bat an eye.  She held it all with me.  Encouraged my rage and held that, too.”  Alicia’s eyes were like flaming sapphires as she held her companion’s gaze.

 

     “We sifted through it all together.  And she just…loved me, Therese, especially when I felt unlovable.  Maria helped me find my wholeness.  My both/and!”  She reached for Therese’s hand, squeezing her fingers earnestly.  “I want you to learn this, dear.  It can change your life!”

 

     “Tell me, Alicia!”

 

     “I’m not an either/or, darling, and neither are you!  It’s not that I’m _either_ broken _or_ healed.  It’s that I’m _both_ broken _and_ healed!  _Both_ darkness _and_ light; _both_ weak _and_ so very strong.  Do you see?”  The old nun’s voice was clipped.  An urgency drove her words.  “Our minds want to say, “I’m either this, or that.  But that thinking is fracturing, dear.  It’s often self-condemning.  And we are whole beings!  _Both/and_ honors our wholeness!”

 

     The younger woman could sense her mentor’s lively, freeing energy, but was struggling with the concept.  With typical candor, she responded, “I’m not sure I’m getting it. Maybe I’m not smart enough?”

 

     Alicia pounced.  “Nonsense!  And there you go, ‘I’m not smart.’  It’s like slamming a door in your own face, dear.  What if you said, ‘I’m _both_ ignorant _and_ capable of learning new things?’ Can you see how that keeps you whole?  How it opens a door to healing?”

 

     Therese was silent, letting Alicia’s words sink in.  They had had countless conversations like this over the years, and as always, the old nun imparted her wisdom with humility and expansive generosity.  As Therese pondered, her eyes roved from tree to flower to herb, finding the rich plant life fed her deeply, if wordlessly.  It was mid-summer now, and it seemed all of life was flourishing around them, the colors bountiful and the sounds of birds and bees a celebratory chorus.

 

     Her eye was drawn to a patch of red zinnias so richly hued they almost looked blue in their small, shady alcove.  They were a thing of dramatic beauty, like a crescendo at the end of a symphony.  She couldn’t pull her eyes away, feeling herself almost sinking, and after a moment or two blurted out, “The zinnias are whole.”  She was almost startled by the sound of her voice.

 

     Alicia nodded.  “Yes, they are, dear.  And?”

 

     Feeling her heart quicken, the young brunette replied, “That one on the far left…it’s missing some of its petals…they’ve been gouged away, or blown off, or something…”  She turned and smiled at Alicia, loving the sight of her cherubic, open face.  “But it’s a _both/and_ , isn’t it?”

 

     Alicia beamed.  “Tell me how!” 

 

     “Both fallen and flowering.  Both missing and remaining.  Both absent and present.  Both imperfect and beautiful.”  She paused, and her dimples peeked out as another smile crept its way across her pleased face.  “I’m getting it, aren’t I?”

 

     “You certainly are, love.  Now tell me one about _you_!” the nun answered, reaching over and squeezing her forearm reassuringly.

 

     Therese bit her lip, looking at the zinnias as if they could produce this awareness, too.  “Well, I’m…both frightened and brave.  Both grown and growing.  Both stubborn and accepting!  How am I doing?”  Alicia clapped her hands with joy, pleased at the lightbulbs that were flickering on like the stars at nightfall.  Her smile was full of pride and love for this lovely young woman and her tenacious, intrepid nature.

 

     “Wonderfully, darling!  I’m both amazed and unsurprised!”  Alicia laughed, delighted with Therese and amused by her own quick answer.  Looking at her, the younger woman felt a powerful surge of love rise from her solar plexus, filling her with a seeping warmth.  She threw her arms around her mentor’s sturdy shoulders, hugging so tightly the old nun caught her breath.

 

     “Oh my, Therese!  What did I do to deserve this?” Alicia asked with a chuckle.  Therese only squeezed tighter, quieted by the love she felt.  Finally, she pulled back, leaving a kiss on her smooth cheek first.  “How can you even ask, Alicia _?  What have you NOT done for me?_ ” she asked, her emerald eyes glowing earnestly. 

 

     The old nun just smiled tenderly, shaking her head and stroking Therese’s hair.  “Oh, Therese, I love you so, my dear.  You’re one of my own.”

 

     The young woman paused, a knowing look narrowing her eyes.  “I’ve got another _both/and!”_ she almost whispered, and Alicia struggled to hear above a sudden rush of wind.  “I’m both motherless and mothered.  Both motherless and mothered!”

 

                                               

                                                _______________________________________

 

     It was several days after her visit with Alicia.  Therese came home from work, feeling grimy and uncomfortable from the humid, steamy Manhattan streets.  She longed to see Carol, longed for their connection which brightened her evenings and emboldened her moments.

 

     On this early evening, though, she found Carol in one of her “spaces.”  A wonderful visit with Rindy had yielded a difficult and sad goodbye.  Therese had walked these steps with Carol before and wasn’t surprised at her withdrawal, her cold and unemotional presentation.

 

     Usually, this caused the younger woman to grow resentful and frightened, and sometimes to lock herself away, physically and emotionally.  It was far better than hanging out with a stone and feeling vulnerable.

 

     But tonight, an awareness came to her, as if the breeze had blown it down from Pace de Christo, from Alicia’s wise heart _.  Carol is a both/and_.  _Carol is a both/and, too!_ It stopped her in her tracks.  Her open mouth, which had been poised with a sharp comment on the tip of her tongue, closed slowly.  Therese took a deep, slow breath, her eyes closing momentarily.  _Both/and…both/and…_

 

     When she opened her eyes, Carol was still sitting on the silver-gray sofa, a whiskey in her hand and a design magazine in her lap.  Her golden blond hair lay in a wave across her cheek, caressing one sculpted cheekbone and making Therese ache to run her lips along its fine line.  Sensing her presence, Carol looked up, a vague and distant look in her eyes.

 

     Instead of her usual cutting comment, the one intended to protect her vulnerable heart, Therese just stared at her beautiful lover, a sigh escaping her in gentle undulations.  Both/and…both/and. _She’s both/and._

 

     Picking her head up, Carol spoke first.  “Hi,” she said, her tone cold and removed.

 

     Therese stared silently, at a loss for words.  _Both withdrawn and warm-hearted.  Both wounded and_ _healing.  Both broken and whole._

 

     “What can I do?” she asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I appreciate each and every one of you, and appreciate your helpful, insightful comments.
> 
> Much peace to all.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lord, make me an instrument of your peace;  
> Where there is hatred,   
> let me sow love...
> 
> Prayer of St. Francis of Assisi

 

     “Mommy, why do we have birthdays?”  Rindy’s question was another in a long line she’d been piping out with as she colored with Carol at the dining room table one sunny Sunday afternoon in July.  The six-year old didn’t even raise her eyes from her paper, and Carol smiled at the furrowed-brow concentration on her daughter’s face, the tip of her small, pink tongue poking out through pursed lips and a halo of golden curls splayed atop her head.

 

     “Well, darling,” she responded, “we all have to have a birthday, right?  It’s the day we’re born into the world.”  Carol eyed her own picture critically, making sure she hadn’t gone out of the lines with the blue crayon she’d been using on the house she’d colored.  _Oh, for heaven’s sake!  I’m still worrying about coloring out of the lines.  Give it a rest, Carol!_

 

     “I _know_ that, mommy!  I mean the other part of a birthday.  The now part!  Why do we have birthdays now, after we’re born?”  Sensitive to the child’s genuine interest, Carol lifted her face to look Rindy in the eyes, blue-gray meeting blue.  Her heart softened with love for her daughter, one that never ceased to amaze her, that poured from her as endlessly as ocean waves uncurling themselves on an ever-grateful shore.

 

     “We remember them, sweetheart, so we can celebrate our lives, and so the people that love us can celebrate us, too.”  Carol could tell Rindy was pondering her next question by the tilt of her head and focused gaze.  “Are you going to celebrate you?” the little girl asked plainly.

 

     “Of course, we are!  Remember Therese is planning my party?  And your dad will bring you here for it?”  Rindy shook her head at her mother, then picked up an orange crayon and began to color her clown’s hair.  “Not that, mommy.  I know I’m coming and we will have a big party for you.  Therese says it will be so much fun!  But I mean, will you be happy on your birthday, too?”

 

     Carol stared at the child, amazed at the depth of her questions and feeling quite unprepared to answer them.  “Will you, mommy?”  Smiling, she answered in a reassuring voice, knowing her daughter needed it for some unknown reason.  “Of course, I will, Rindy!  I’m the luckiest person in the world!  With so much to celebrate!  I’ll be _so_ happy on my birthday!”

 

     A smile came immediately to the child’s pixie-like face, and her small shoulders seemed to sag with relief.  “Oh, that’s good, mommy!  ‘Licia says birthdays are good for liking ourselves ‘specially good!”

 

_Ah…I should have guessed Alicia figured into this somewhere._ Carol sat back in her chair, thankful for the feel of its cool wood grain through the thin cotton of her blouse.  On the chair next to her, Benny was curled in a ball sleeping, and she reached a mindless hand out to stroke his soft fur.  Rindy continued her coloring, content now that her question was answered to her satisfaction.  But then she stopped and raised her eyes to look at her mother again. 

 

     “On my birthday, mommy, I liked myself ‘specially for being pretty and scrumptious,” she announced proudly, her blue eyes dancing with happiness, as if a remembered feeling was washing over her.

 

     Carol couldn’t keep the smile from her lips, nor the surprise from her eyes.  _Where in the world_ …  “Pretty and scrumptious?  Wow!  That’s an awful big word for a six-year old.  Scrumptious!” she repeated, still surprised but liking the way the word rolled off her tongue and how it fit her daughter perfectly.

 

     “I’m scrumptious as a strawberry sundae!” the child said with a giggle.  “’Licia says so!  Are you scrumptious, mommy?”  Carol just stared at her for untold moments, awash with feelings she couldn’t name. _Am I scrumptious?  Should I be?  Does anyone think I am?  Probably Therese, but…_ Her thoughts were interrupted by the closing of the front door and Therese, who strode into the dining room with a cheery smile and kiss on the top of her head.  _Thank God for you, Therese.  Whoever God might be…I_ _thank her._

“Mommy?”

“Carol?”  She blinked several times before her thoughts brought her back into their dining room, and only then by Benny’s persistent pawing at her forearm, his snow white, left ear cocked in alert that something was amiss with his mistress.  “Where are you?” Therese’s voice finally penetrated her reverie, and she shook her head, as if to awaken herself.

 

     “Oh…I’m sorry, Therese.”  She looked across the table to see her daughter’s sweet face bearing a confused expression.  Carol smiled with a mother’s reassurance, regardless of her thoughts.  “I’m sorry, sweetheart!  I don’t know where mommy’s brain went!”  She turned, her golden blond hair moving like a field of ripened wheat, smiling up at her partner.  “Hello, darling!  How was the park?”

 

     The younger brunette returned the smile, though her eyes narrowed perceptively.  “I’m good, and the park was lovely.  I think I took some great shots!  We’ll see…but, how are _you?”_

“Mommy is scrumptious!  Like me!  I’m scrumptious like a strawberry sundae!  Are you scrumptious, Therese?” Rindy exclaimed out of turn.  Benny was pacing in circles on his seat by now, and Therese’s sensitive heart began to discern the thrumming undercurrents.  She laughed at the unexpected incongruity of the question.

 

     “Am I… _scrumptious_?”  Rindy clapped, a teacher very pleased with her student.  “Yes, Therese!  Are you scrumptious like a strawberry sundae?”  Stunned, Therese could only laugh in complete enjoyment of the little girl’s ebullience, her unrestrained enthusiasm.  “Mommy’s thinking about how she’s scrumptious,” the child prattled on, oblivious to the emotions her innocent question might be stirring, “and do you think mommy is scrumptious, Therese?”

_Oh, good heavens, I can’t even…_ The young woman pushed the hair away from her suddenly flushed cheek, feeling her ears grow heated and red.  “Yes, Rindy, I _definitely_ think mommy is scrumptious!”  She plunged valiantly forward.  “As scrumptious as…a tall, frosted glass of lemonade on a hot summer’s day!”

 

     Rindy clapped again, seemingly unaware that she had the rapt attention of two grown women and one small dog.  “Yay!  I knew it!  Tell me about you, Therese!”  The brunette decided she needed a seat and lowered herself to the chair at angles with Rindy and Carol, where they all could make eye contact.  She smiled, her tension suddenly easing.  “Well, I’m as scrumptious as…the forest in the early hours of a spring morning!  How about you, Rindy?  What else are you as scrumptious as?” 

 

     “Pussy willows and bunnies!  Mommy, please tell us yours! _Please!”_   Rindy’s beautiful face looked earnest, almost anxious with a need Carol couldn’t decipher.  She cleared her throat, and when she spoke her voice was husky and soft.  “Well, darling, I would say I’m scrumptious as…fine silk…and mahogany.”  She felt ridiculously pleased with herself for answering.

 

     The little girl clapped again.  “Yay!  I knew you could do it, mommy!  And I think you’re scrumptious as a pillow!” she interjected, her eyes shining with an adoration that made Carol catch her breath, made her blink when tears threatened to spill.  She rose gracefully, coming behind her daughter and embracing her, chair and all.  “And you, my sweet pea, are as scrumptious as all the best things I’ve ever known in my whole life!”

 

                                                 _____________________________________

 

     Much later, after Harge had picked Rindy up, after the women had eaten dinner and cleaned up and were relaxing on the balcony with chilled glasses of white wine, Therese decided to broach the subject that had hung like rich, heavy moss just begging her to touch since the afternoon.  She crept around sensitively, not quite certain of the reading on Carol’s emotional barometer.

 

     “So…” she began lightly, “do you feel like telling me what was going on with you this afternoon?  Do you mind talking about it?”  Carol looked at her with raised eyebrows, shaking her head slowly.  “Jesus, Therese, you amaze me…the way you pick up on things…” She took a sip of her wine, contemplating, and her companion waited patiently.  After another sip, she spoke.

 

     “As ridiculous as it sounds, Rindy’s question really threw me.”  Her deep voice was soft, her eyes gazing out at the darkening sky as if all her answers were splayed upon the crimson red and purpling clouds.  She chuckled.  “That child!  She’s always disarming me like it’s her job in life!  And ‘Licia’ is just as bad!”  Both women laughed, their understanding complete.  “But…the truth is I was completely lost thinking about whether I’m ‘scrumptious’ in any way.”  She caught Therese’s eye, seeing the smirk.  “And yes, darling, I’m sure _you_ can probably name a few ways!  And thank you!  But if I’m serious, I don’t think I’ve ever been able to celebrate myself… _really_ celebrate myself…and the whole topic hurt somehow.  You know?” 

 

     Therese saw the vague pain in Carol’s eyes, which looked dark blue in the dimming light.  She reached over and squeezed one of her slim, elegant hands.  “I know.  I feel the same about me.  It’d be something to go back to Rindy’s age and actually have that conversation with supportive, loving adults, wouldn’t it?  Or live in a world where _this_ was okay?” she commented with a wave of her hand over their bodies.  It was piercing for both of them, and they squeezed each other’s hands.

 

     “Oh darling…I know.  This hiding kills me sometimes.  Or makes me furious,” the older woman replied, her voice taking on a hard edge.  “It’s absurd, it’s…Christ, I’m not sure what it is.”  She moved in her seat, clearly agitated, crossing, then re-crossing her legs, releasing frustrated sighs.  “Always on alert, always having to protect ourselves… I have _no idea_ how to celebrate myself most of the time, Therese.”  There was an underlying desolation in Carol’s voice such that Therese felt as if her own heart was being squeezed with iron clamps.  Unable to help herself, she stood quickly and then settled in her companion’s lap, putting her arms around Carol’s neck and kissing her face repeatedly, eyes, temples, cheekbones, chin, nose, forehead.

 

     “Mmmph!” The younger woman punctuated her kisses with an unintelligible groan, and then hugged the beautiful blond as closely as she possibly could.  She remained silent for several moments, enjoying Carol’s scented warmth and closeness, the comfort of being in her embrace and the sheltering love between them.  Her thoughts stumbled into darkness, but finally Therese pulled back from the very black hole before it sucked them both into its unforgiving vortex.  She sat up.

 

     “Carol, how’d you like to do something that will probably make us both feel stupid but might also be healing?”  Her companion laughed, a low, throaty rumble that Therese always found so sexy.  “Well now, sweetheart, how can I pass on such an inviting offer?  Tell me what’s going on in that scheming brain of yours,” Carol invited.

 

     “There’s just a couple weeks until your birthday.  Let’s play a game in that time, one that ends on your birthday with you knowing a few things about yourself you truly want to love and celebrate.”  Carol made a grunt of resistance, but the slim brunette was nonplussed.  “Now wait…hear me out!  It won’t be hard!  Let’s play…let’s see, what would Rindy call this?  Oh, forget it…let’s not name it.  But let’s each do what we were doing with Rindy.  Think of ways we’re ‘scrumptious’, things we love about ourselves, or at the very least, things we like about ourselves.”

 

     Carol made another sound of resistance.  “You’re right.  It sounds ridiculous!  I can’t walk around thinking, ‘I’m scrumptious as…’

 

     Therese laughed. “Yes, you can!  I can, too.  I will!  If we feel stupid, we’ll feel stupid together.  But Carol…”  She sighed.  “Look, the world’s a mess!  We just left a world war, then we sent our men to Korea…who knows where next… _People hate._   They hate blacks and Jews and lesbians and gays and all sorts of people for so many reasons.  And I may be young, but I’ve already figured out we have to create our own healing spaces.”  Her voice was warming to the topic, passion rising to the surface and pushing her along like a gust of strong wind in her sails.  In the gray twilight, Carol could see her emerald eyes glistening with youth and hope.

 

     Therese shook her head slowly from side to side.  “I can’t heal the world, Carol.  I’m not going to be a woman who can bring groups of people together, motivate them, help them rise up… I’m a photographer.  I look.  I observe.  I capture what speaks to my heart.  Who knows, maybe someday one of my pictures will bring about change for someone,” she mused, sighing again, “but for now, all I know is that I’m the only person I can change, the only person I can heal…”

 

      She stopped and cradled Carol’s face in her hands.  “Let’s do this! No one will know but the two of us!  Let’s just…oh, I don’t know, maybe try to come up with one scrumptious thing about ourselves a day, and put them in a bowl, or tape them to the vanity mirror, or the wardrobe door.  _Please?  Please, Carol?”_

_Those big, green eyes.  They’ve done me in._ Carol released a conciliatory sigh, a vague smile ghosting the planes and shadows of her face.  “Oh, god, Therese.  Okay, okay!  We can play our game.  But not a word to anyone, not even Alicia!  Or Abby.  Or Rindy, that little weasel!  This ‘Scrumptious Game’ is just for us, darling.”

 

     Therese squirmed with delight.  “Oh, I’m so glad!”  She began leaving little kisses all over Carol’s face again, overcome by love and energy and enthusiasm.  A kiss on one eye, then another.  A kiss on a sculptured cheekbone, and then an eyebrow.  A kiss on the forehead, hairline, temple.  When Therese’s seeking lips found the scented hollow behind her ear, she heard the quick catch in Carol’s breath, and the younger woman’s pulse suddenly skyrocketed.  Awareness flamed to life between them, Carol’s arms tightening at Therese’s waist.  She turned her head slightly, and Therese claimed her lips with command, passion erupting suddenly and unmistakably.

 

_“Jesus,_ Therese…”  As soon as Carol spoke, the younger woman’s tongue found its way between her lips and into the moist, wine-tasting passages beyond.  Their tongues met roughly, passion rising to meet passion.  Therese was making little sounds, her restless hands roaming up and down Carol’s back, caressing her warming skin through the thin cotton of her summer blouse.  When she brought her face to her neck and inhaled, Therese gasped and Carol groaned.  As her tongue tasted the ridge of her collarbone, Therese stood, rearranging herself so she sat astride Carol’s lap.

 

     Her breath was coming with weighted heaviness now, and the younger woman could feel desire thrumming in her ears and making her heart pound with restless anticipation.  “Carol,” she whispered, bringing her hands around to tug her companion’s hair from its bun, then running fingers through its silky strands.  She brought her lips back to Carol’s mouth where their tongues began a dance of enticement.  “Carol,” she whispered again, “I want to get you started.”

 

     The older woman dragged herself through a fog of pleasure and tried to focus.  “Started?  Therese?”  When she felt hands tug her blouse from the waistband of her skirt and begin stroking the heated skin of her back, Carol gasped.  “Oh, god, darling.  That feels so good…”

 

     “Mmm,” Therese murmured.  “It’s scrumptious, Carol.  Your skin is scrumptious.”  She brought her lips to her ear and licked it.  Carol gasped again, and Therese breathed, “Scrumptious ear.”  She kissed her way down to the crease of her neck.  “Mmm…scrumptious.”  She unbuttoned the top two buttons of the older woman’s blouse, slipping a hand inside her bra, finding a nipple unerringly.  She pinched it, held on, rolled it between her fingers.  Carol moaned, feeling restless on this chair on the balcony, her skin hot and flushed.

 

     “Oh, love, your nipples…so scrumptious.”  The sexual tension between the women was a drugging thing.  “Therese, please…” Carol pleaded.  The younger woman nodded.  She kissed her lips deeply, erotically, until they both were breathless, and then stood, drawing Carol to her feet.

 

     “Come on, Carol,” Therese urged hazily.  “I want to tell you all about how scrumptious you are.  And just how scrumptious you taste…” she finished, dragging her lover through the door.

 

                                                 ____________________________________

 

     One by one, little pieces of scrap paper began to decorate the vanity mirror, Carol’s on the right, Therese’s the left, the same sides of the bed they slept on.  The writing became bigger and bolder.  No words were spoken, as if this had been silently agreed upon, and Carol liked it that way.  So did Therese.  It freed them, made them each feel brave.

 

_Scrumptious as velvet.  Scrumptious because I care so much about others.  Scrumptious as a morning glory.  Scrumptious because I’m a devoted mother.  I’M A SURVIVOR.  I notice the hummingbirds.  I’M LEARNING TO FORGIVE.  SCRUMPTIOUS AS A COOL, DEEP BROOK.  I would run out onto Park Avenue to rescue a cat.  Scrumptious because I’m a loyal friend.  I’m learning how to heal.  I’M BOTH SCREWED UP AND STILL BEAUTIFUL._

 

     As the days passed, Carol came to see that mirror as sacred, almost holy.  A shrine to something mysterious and undefined and very, very beautiful.  Therese did, too.  A bunch of lilies appeared in a vase.  A pillar candle was lit at different times.  Carol was shocked when she dug out a picture of herself as an adolescent, all arms and legs and sharp angles, and tucked it in the lower right corner of the mirror.  Another day, a copy of the “Prayer of Francis of Assisi” appeared; then, a small card with a painting of Francis himself.  _Scrumptious as a starry sky.  BOTH WOUNDED AND HEALING.  Scrumptious_ _because I find something to be grateful for._ “Lord, make me an instrument of your peace…”

 

     On Saturday, July 28th, Carol turned 36.  She had volunteered to get a fresh loaf of bread and the newspaper from the corner deli near their apartment while Therese made the coffee.  Returning to their building, she entered the elevator, pressed the “6” button, and leaned her head back.  She was releasing a deep, grateful breath when she heard it: “ _You are altogether beautiful, my darling; There is no flaw in_ _you.”_

_Her eyes flew open.  Well, well, well.  Elevator Voice!  I haven’t heard from you in ages!  Where have you been?  Hmm…”You are altogether beautiful, my darling; There is no flaw in you.”    You sound Shakespearean, not biblical.  I’ll ask Alicia tonight.  Altogether beautiful.  I like that; thank you!  But I’m deeply flawed, too…_

In the afternoon, Carol felt moved to jot the words down on another piece of scrap paper.  In her graceful, loping script she wrote, and then pasted them on their mirror in the bedroom.  _YOU ARE_ _ALTOGETHER BEAUTIFUL, MY DARLING; THERE IS NO FLAW IN YOU._

 

     She stood back, taking in the words, and briefly, her reflection underneath.  She was silent for a few moments with a gratitude she couldn’t quite find words for, until finally she whispered, _Thank you!  It’s_ _the perfect birthday gift._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, dear readers. Thank you for still being there...for caring about these characters.  
> And thanks for being my companion on this journey!  
> As always, wishing you peace...


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For a dear friend who lives far, far away.  
> I would hug you if I could!  
> GG

 

 

     She was walking home from the deli when she saw the first one.  There, up ahead, in the throng of Saturday afternoon pedestrians on Madison Avenue, a young man hurried through the crowd.  The red and white hat on his head bobbed brightly; once, twice, and then was gone as he turned into a shop.

 

     Carol smiled as a wave of nostalgia washed over her.  _Have we been together long enough to feel_ _nostalgic?  Apparently so!_ The memory was still vivid: Therese in a Santa hat, her flawless face friendly and open, a strikingly beautiful young woman with a quietly enticing air. Carol wanted to stop and look at the image in her mind, to turn it this way and that because it was the finest of diamonds and deserved to be held and observed and cherished often.  Warmth flooded her heart.  _The little elf came home with me and somehow, we made it through that terrible blizzard without losing each other._

She knew she was a proud woman, even haughty at times like her mother taught her to be, yet the reality of their relationship was enough to bring Carol to her knees.  There and then, on the cold, rushed sidewalks of Manhattan.  Their relationship had changed her.  She expelled a grateful breath.  _Now I know who I am._

 She was smiling as she reached the apartment, coming through the door and into the quiet lobby with a yearning for home, for her.  The room was only partly dressed for the holidays at this point; someone had begun stringing lights and a poinsettia had been placed on the small table by the elevator.  It was still several weeks until Christmas and Carol realized she was looking forward to every moment.  It had been a hard few months.  Therese was mourning the death of her mother, a process that had been exhausting for Carol, too. 

 

      She needed hot chocolate, snowflakes, and Rindy’s excitement.  And the Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center that always made her feel hopeful.  And Therese in her Santa hat.   

 

     “I’m home, darling,” she announced as she came through the door.  She kicked off her shoes, dropped her coat on the side chair and shifted the brown paper bag from one hand to the other.  “In here!” Therese called from the kitchen. 

 

     The young woman stood at the stove, poised over a soup pot with a mixing spoon in hand, looking pensive, as she was wont to do.  Her cheeks were pink with heat and somehow this diminished the dark circles under her emerald eyes.  Her fine-boned face looked hollowed out, all sharp angles and step crevasses, and it made Carol ache for a soft escape for them both.

 

     “Darling, do you trust me?” she blurted suddenly, surprising herself, and by the expression on her face, Therese, too.  The brunette’s eyebrows came together in question.  “At this point it goes without saying, Carol.”  She paused, resting the spoon on the stovetop.  “Don’t you think?”

 

     A nodding Carol dropped the deli bag on the counter carelessly.  She turned off the stove with a flick of her wrist.  _Soup and bread can wait._  She held out her hand, and when Therese took it, pulled them both into the living room.  The lanky blond glided with her usual, unconscious grace to the record player and flipped through the stack until she found the exact record she wanted. 

 

     A surprised Therese watched her girlfriend closely.  She was so beautiful it made her ache, made her hurt at the wonder of this woman who held herself with such grace and dignity, who carried her woundedness in hidden places and showed the world her strength.

 

     The first strains of the song began, an orchestral version of a piece they both adored.  Carol held out her hand.

 

     “Dance with me?”  Therese came into her arms with a silent nod, a grateful smile.  The tall blond closed her eyes at the feel of her lithe body, its warmth against her own.  She smelled like onions and cooked chicken, Ivory soap and fresh, fruity shampoo.  For a moment, Carol just breathed her in, letting everything else fall away, as she needed it to.  They began to sway slowly back and forth, two warm, wordless bodies who needed exactly this, exactly this.

 

     When she brought their cheeks together it felt like silk on silk, so soft it made them both quiver.  The moment was utterly beautiful and oh, so fragile.  Carol breathed out so slowly she could feel Therese’s hair billow in the faint wind of her breath.  She clutched the smaller woman more tightly, felt their hearts thudding in synchrony.  Saw her again in her memory, in that silly Santa hat.

 

     Therese felt the smile against her face.  “Why are you smiling?” she whispered.  But Carol shook her head, pulling back for a moment.  She brought a hand up, cupping one warm cheek tenderly.  She placed one soft, gentle kiss on Therese’s lips, then brought their foreheads together.

 

     “Just dance with me, darling,” she replied with a grateful sigh.  “Please, let’s just dance.”

 

      And so they continued to sway in harmony, while the lyrics to the carol rang through both their heads and the soup grew cold:

_Dream, dream, dream,_

_Of the joyous day to come._

_While guardian angels without number_

_Watch you as you sweetly slumber._

_Dream, dream, dream_

_Of the joyous day to come._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These lyrics are from one of my favorite Christmas songs, "Still, Still, Still." I listen to it year-round, because it always brings me peace and hope. I don't know if any of you have heard The Piano Guy's version, but it is stunningly beautiful. A lullaby for the soul, any time of year.
> 
> I hadn't planned to write this, but a friend is hurting and needs the angels.
> 
> As always, peace to all!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the miracle that happens every time  
> to those who really love:  
> the more they give,  
> the more they possess.  
> Rilke

 Journal #1

 

March 12, 1956

     Really, I think I almost feel foolish sitting down to write!  I’m not a writer, nor am I so prone to introspection that journaling is a necessary outlet.  But be that as it may, here I am, with pen in hand and a rather full heart.  Alicia, bless her swami heart, suggested I keep a journal.  It’s been a long time…I kept a diary for a time when I was twelve or thirteen…

 

     I know what’s pushing at me is my reaction to Sabina’s death.  And Rindy!  I miss her terribly and being so close to Therese’s pain about the absence of her own mother just gnaws at me. Life really is fragile!  You’d think I would have learned that in my early twenties when most of the young men in town left to fight the war and never came home!  Why didn’t I notice?

 

     But I was so shut down then.  We all were!  It was too scary to be vulnerable.  There was too much death all around.  And mother and father…they certainly didn’t encourage emotional vulnerability.  Good heavens, they were both so stoic, so damn contained.  _Buttoned up_.  They were probably silent when they had sex, for god’s sakes!

 

     Anyhow, Sabina’s death and being apart from Rindy have had me all stirred up.  And I don’t want to be the kind of mother my mother was!  I don’t want to be distant and emotionally vacant to my child.  I want her to have this journal, too, someday after I pass away.  (Good god, the mere thought makes me want to light a cigarette!)  I want her to know her mother in a deeper way.  Especially because we have been forced apart by this goddamn society!

 

     Speaking of which, Alicia told me my own walls are not all bad, considering the climate, the danger of being a lesbian in America.  I have no idea what it’s like in the rest of the world, but here it’s desperate, miserable.  There has to be some place I feel safe, some way to keep myself protected.  So, I’m cautious and go through life with my walls erected.  They come down with Rindy, but I hope they come down _enough_.

 

     Therese certainly helps with that.  That woman!  Amongst the many things she is, she has been a catalyst.  The safety of our relationship—and maybe the most profoundly important part of that is the friendship growing ever deeper between us—it seems to open me up and set me free, over and over again.  (Rindy honey, if you’re reading this, I tell you truly—if you have at least _one true friend—_ you have one of the greatest treasures on earth.)  Therese has become my safe person, even safer than Abby, and our home is my sanctuary.  _Our_ _sanctuary._

 

     I would never have believed this—fought against it with most of my being, as a matter of fact—but Rilke was right!  I read a quote by him a while ago: _“I want to unfold.  I don’t want to be folded anywhere, because there, where I am folded, I am a lie.”_ And I do want to unfold!  At least on some level…with Therese and Rindy, for sure.  Probably with Abby on deeper levels than I have been.  I grow tired of going through life so contained!  I want to be more open.  Free, and able to be more spontaneous.

 

     Thank god for Rindy and Bubbles!  Bubbles came over last weekend after Therese did all that driving, and my, it was an adventure!  They are two peas in a pod.  Therese and I never knew what would come out of their mouths!  At one point, they came out of Rindy’s room all dressed up, though nothing really fit Bubbles.  Fancy hats and gloves and skirts.  Good heavens!  We asked what they were playing, and Rindy looked so angry that we didn’t know.  Stomped her little foot, a stormy look on her face: “ _Mommy!_   We’re playing Carol and Therese, of course!”  (Rindy dear, you are nothing short of delightfully challenging!)

 

     Anyhow, the youngsters are helping me.  It’s almost impossible to be stoic around them!  I just have to figure out how to be tough but not frozen.  Because heaven knows, one has to be tough in life…or it will eat you up.

 

     I’m all over the place, I know.  I hope some of this makes sense.  But Alicia tells me, _just put your pen_ _on the page and let yourself flow…_

 

  And oh!  It’s almost five.  Therese will be home before I know it.  I will stop writing now and—

 

                                    ___________________________________________

 

     “Carol?”  The older woman lifted her head, was helpless to stop the spread of the smile across her lovely face, the seeping glow brightening the depths of her blue gray eyes.  Therese stood in the doorway between the kitchen and dining room, her camera still in her hand.  The young woman’s cheeks were flushed with exertion and most certainly the brittle cold that had accompanied her time in Central Park, her smile accented by the curve of the dimples Carol always found so irresistible.  They stared at each other with unmistakable pleasure, with delight, with joy, neither of them speaking for a moment or two.

 

     Carol cleared her throat.  “Did you get some good photos?” she asked, her voice even huskier than usual from not having spoken for several hours.  Therese nodded, moving to set her beloved camera on the dining room table, then circling around until she stood before the regal blond.  She reached out a hand to pet Benny, who was lounging on a chair next to Carol.  “Hey, little man,” she greeted the drowsy dog in a serene voice.  The mutt stretched and groaned with contentment, not opening his eyes and melting even more deeply into the seat cushion, a soft, silver-black puddle against the royal blue upholstery.  She picked her head up, brushing a few stray wisps of brunette hair from her cheek.  Smiling, Therese took a purposeful step and then sat own in Carol’s lap, her slender arms automatically circling the woman’s neck.  Leaning in, she placed a kiss on her smooth cheek.

 

     “Mm-hmm, I did,” she murmured.  “It took some doing but I finally spotted a few crocuses coming up here and there.”  She raised a hand and stroked the back of Carol’s head, loving the feel of the silky blond hair as it caressed her fingers.  “And you?” she queried.  “Did you journal a bit like you’d planned?”

 

     “Yes, darling, I did.”  The older woman paused, her thoughts meandering, her focus now the warm, solid, inviting feel of Therese in her arms.  “It didn’t exactly feel comfortable, but eventually my thoughts came, the words flowed more naturally, I suppose…”  She paused, her arms tightening around Therese’s slim waist.  The Rilke quote echoed again, but softer now, a pale but hauntingly beautiful wisp of a thing whispering in her ears.  “I was opening, just a bit…unfolding, darling…”

 

    _Unfolding_.  _Unfolding._   The word was still with her later as they lay in bed, with naked bodies pressed close and legs entwined.  Unfolding.  Unfold.  You unfold your arms, your legs, your very womb, Carol thought, running her lips over a soft, creamy shoulder, inhaling the sweet scent of Therese.  And I do, too, sweetheart.  Unfold for you, unfold with you. 

 

     Carol moved, purposeful once again, shifting on top of Therese, spreading the younger woman’s legs with her own.  She brought her lips down to the enticing rosebud of a nipple, and Therese cried out involuntarily.  Long, slender fingers found her still wet, warm womb, entering that sacred space once again, sliding in smoothly.

 

     Carol picked up her flushed face, a sheen of perspiration forming on her forehead.  She kissed Therese, their tongues thrusting and entwining erotically.  Her fingers moved, and her heart raced at the velvet heat of her lover’s core.  Therese moved her hips, shifted her legs wider.

 

     “Ah, Therese,” Carol breathed, “you open for me.  You keep unfolding… _my friend_ …”   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! I had no idea I would write this today...it took me by surprise!  
> But I am trying to honor my mysterious muse...to listen when she speaks.
> 
> I hope that wherever you are in the world,  
> you have at least one good friend.  
> Sending you peace, as always!


	11. Chapter 11

 

     Alicia wondered what it was about certain moments in life that made them leap from the fabric of time like threads shook loose, as if their brilliance was too full to be bound.  They were the gemstones that glittered beneath memory’s torch, the one she held in desperation against encroaching darkness.  And they never failed to take her breath away, to humble her, to make her fall on her knees and utter prayers of gratitude.

 

     The whole afternoon held so many of those moments that now, in the quiet of her early evening prayer time, they leapt in her mind one after another and made it hard to concentrate on her rosary. She smiled, leaning back in the rocking chair that Carol and Therese had brought her.  It was made of oak, and the smooth, polished wood still smelled fresh and new, its surface somehow like the cheek of a newborn beneath her fingertips.  She closed her eyes, breathing in the scent, truly grateful for the tree on which she sat, the one that gave its life for her comfort now.

 

     The rocker was the last thing she’d expected; the visit from her dear Carol and Therese a complete, last minute surprise.

 

     “Are you busy in a couple hours, Alicia?” Therese had asked just that morning.  At Pace de Christo, in her robe still, a lukewarm cup of tea in her grasp, Alicia had drawn a blank.

 

     “Therese, dear heart, what time is it?”  The young woman’s delightful giggle came over the line, almost impossibly _awake._ “For heaven’s sake, it’s still dark out!”

 

     “I think it’s just after seven, Alicia, but we’re awake!  I had a nightmare and couldn’t fall back asleep, and it woke Carol, and then Benny jumped on our bed and wouldn’t settle and after a while, we just gave up!”  She sounded bright and shiny, and the elderly nun had a vision of a newly minted penny.  She chuckled, shaking her head as warmth filled her solar plexus.  “Anyhow,” Therese continued, “we have a surprise for you!  And the weather is supposed to be clear today and we thought…if it would work for you, we’ll make a day trip and a special delivery. An early birthday present!”

 

     Alicia laughed, joy blooming from the warm place inside.  “Oh my, I don’t know why you’d want to do that for me, but I’ll be honest, dear one—it would be an absolute joy to see you!”  Therese had babbled with Carol, and then the happy nun had hung up and returned to her prayer time with an extra lift to her devotions.

 

     That had been hours ago.  True to their word, Therese and Carol had arrived at the convent just prior to the lunch hour.  When Alicia had made her way slowly down to the front entrance hall, hobbling on her cane and especially sore on this damp March morning, the two women were chatting amicably with Sr. Mary Margaretta, who’d been passing through the front hall on her way to the hospital wing.

 

     Now, Alicia closed her eyes, absorbing the soothing motion of the rocking chair; the ageless, timeless comfort of its movement.  Moments called out to her and she followed her senses as they splashed bright colors upon her consciousness.  Carol, resplendent in her red, wool coat and gray hat.  Despite her rather serviceable travel boots, the woman managed to look as elegant and graceful as always, with her golden blond curls laying _just so_ against her flushed and flawless cheeks and blue gray eyes dancing merrily.  Dearest Therese, her emerald eyes sparkling brightly, shining with a secret she could barely keep contained.  The silky brunette hair had been cut by a sophisticated hand, her winter coat was dark navy with velvet piping around the collar and hemline.  Alicia had known a moment of mother’s pride: _She’s all grown up now, and beautifully so!_

The last time they’d conversed, Alicia had been in a rather dark place.  Unable to escape the incessant, painful throbbing in her hip, her world had shrunken.  So had her self-image.  She felt like a hip and not a woman; had lost the forest for the trees, so to speak…and was miserable.

 

     Her talk with Therese had set her right—“Alicia!  What on earth are you talking about?  _Worthless?_  It was your heart that saved me, not your hip!” she’d said stormily.  The young woman was right, of course.  Alicia was jolted out of self-pity and back into abundance with that one, simple sentence and _thank heavens for good friends!_ The kind that leave off the sugar coating when necessary.

 

     A laugh bubbled up, causing her ample bosom to shake with amusement.  How exactly Carol and Therese had gotten the rocker into the back of the Packard was still a mystery to Alicia.  Therese had put her hands on her hips and shaken her head, looking to Carol for an answer.

 

     “Hmm…” the tall blond had considered pensively, her deep voice measured and pleasant, “it was a lot of pushing and tugging and maneuvering…”

 

     “And giggling!” Therese interrupted.  “Don’t forget the giggling!”  She broke out in laughter, her dimples irresistibly on display, and Carol and Alicia joined in.  In the parking lot of Pace de Christo, though, there was to be no such luck.  The two women made many attempts and adjustments, but the chair remained wedged firmly in place.

 

     Thank heavens for Sr. Sophia Grace.  She was returning from a walk, her “daily constitutional,” as she called it, and happened upon the three of them in the parking lot, staring at the Packard as if it would speak solutions.  If truth be told, Alicia was intimidated by Sr. Sophia, a fearsome woman who despite her delicate name looked as if she could play linebacker for the New York Giants.  Sophia was the kind of sister who struck fear into the hearts of all schoolchildren, and Alicia thanked God she didn’t teach kindergarten.

 

     In this instance, Sr. Sophia strode up and with her face contorted into a most disapproving expression, asked, “What seems to be the problem here?”  Therese’s eyes widened, much like a deer caught in the headlights, and Carol, for her part, wanted to laugh out loud at the woman’s fierceness.

 

     It was Alicia who cleared her throat and said, “Well hello, Sr. Sophia.  Out for your walk, I see.  These are my friends, Carol Aird and Therese Belivet.  They’ve driven all the way up from the city with this lovely rocker for me, a birthday present!”  She paused, looking at her two friends with a smile.  “But we are stuck!  Or rather, the chair is.  We can’t seem to remove it without damaging the car.”

 

     Without another word, the stout woman walked to the back seat of the Packard and eyeballed the problematic chair.  She tilted her head this way and that, her veil swinging about purposefully, and then grasped the bottom of the rocker.  A firm tug this way, and another that, and the chair was loosed from its captivity.  Sophia pulled it from the vehicle herself, setting it on the tarmac with a satisfying “thump!”  Then she rubbed her hands together and looked up.

 

     “There you are.  All fixed.”  Alicia, Carol, and Therese stood staring at her, each with their mouth’s slightly open.  For a moment, no one spoke, until Alicia found her voice.  “My, Sr. Sophia, you made that look easy!  Thank you kindly, from all of us,” she commented, looking at her two friends.  Carol cleared her throat, then added, “Yes, Sr. Sophia, you’ve been most helpful, thank you!  I’m not sure we would have figured it out without you, right, Therese?”  She looked pointedly at her girlfriend, her eyebrows lifted in eloquent, silent communication.

 

     But Therese still appeared somewhat intimidated by the fierce-looking Sophia.  She stood with her lips still slightly parted, puffing out little clouds of cold, early spring air.  Her deep green eyes remained large, even alarmed, and Carol cleared her throat again.  “Therese?  We both owe Sr. Sophia our gratitude, don’t we?”

 

     Finally, the young brunette found her voice.  “Yes, Sister,” she stammered out with a nod, “thank you very much.  I’m sure Carol and I would still be attempting to wrangle with the rocker if not for your help.”

 

     Sr. Sophia gave a brisk nod.  “It was my pleasure.”  She squared her shoulders.  “Now, I must get on with things.  I’ll ask you to remember it’s Lent here, which means we won’t want you having a rousing birthday celebration for Sr. Alicia.  Good day.”  With another nod, the nun strode away.

 

     Alicia looked from Therese to Carol with an expressive roll of her eyes and a smirk on her face.  It was obvious she was trying not to laugh, at least until Sr. Sophia entered the convent building once again.  Carol, too, was holding in her laughter and had been for the past several minutes.  Therese, on the other hand, felt her eyes smarting from having stared without blinking at Sophia, and now she looked from Alicia to Carol and whispered fiercely, “That was a _scary_ woman!  My god, what does she _do_ here?”

 

     Unable to help herself, Alicia blurted, “She guards the prisoners.”  Carol finally let her laughter go, a great belly laugh, to which Alicia immediately joined in.  The elderly nun was thoroughly enjoying their little joke, so much so that her round cheeks were red and deep blue eyes tearing up.  Therese finally caught the spirit of the moment as a giggle rose up within.  “And I’ll thank you not to be celebrating too much, as it is Lent!” the slim young woman intoned in a deep voice, which only ignited a fresh round of laughter.

 

     Now, rocking contentedly in her private quarters, Alicia found herself turning the moments this way and that.  Like an expert gemologist, she held them up, peered in wonder, gasped with gratitude that they had been hers to behold, to experience, to celebrate.  Carol, ever the accomplished baker, had made chocolate cupcakes with green icing “because it’s so close to St. Patrick’s Day, and you’re so Irish, Alicia!”  The three of them had eaten happily away, despite Alicia’s Lenten goal of curbing her sweet tooth.  She felt the Lord would understand her having two cupcakes as she celebrated her 65th birthday with dear friends.

 

     She hadn’t been planning on spending today this way.  But perhaps the surprise, the frivolity, and the pure enjoyment she’d felt in Carol and Therese’s company had been Life’s plan for her day.  A benevolent plan, a loving one.  A day of gemstone moments to gaze at and be thankful for.  Always.

 

                                            __________________________________

 

     Carol ran her thumb along Therese’s bottom lip, contemplating her mouth as if it was an exquisite sculpture.  She smiled.  “This was just the best day, wasn’t it, darling?”

 

     Lying beside Carol, the brunette nodded, returning the smile in the dim glow of the bedside lamp.  She yawned, unable to help herself, then replied, “Oh, yes!  Every moment of it.  I’m so happy you suggested we visit Alicia and take her the rocker.  She was so happy, wasn’t she?  And I just know the chair will help her rock away some of her pain.  Don’t you think?”

 

     Carol nodded while stroking Therese’s cheek with the backs of her fingers, loving the soft, velvety skin.  “I do.  It’s as good a coping mechanism as any.”  She paused, considering her words.  “I never had this kind of day with Harge.  Rindy kept us on our toes, but to ever really have fun, be spontaneous, take a road trip…never.”  She leaned in, kissing Therese once, firmly.  A kiss that was somehow a stamp and a seal, the ribbon to tie up this wonderful day and bind it in their hearts.  “I’m so thankful, sweetheart,” she whispered, her voice heavy with feeling. “You give me so much to be thankful for.”

 

     Therese smiled, then brought their lips together, kissing with reverence, almost with awe.  “You do the same for me,” she whispered.  “I’m the luckiest woman alive.”   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Vernal Equinox, my friends! I hope you each found at least one reason to smile today, at least one thing to be grateful for.  
> My crocuses are coming up! They always remind me that even in the depths of winter's cold,   
> life is happening, though we cannot see it.
> 
> Many blessings of peace to all of you.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to all who read and support these characters and this author! I'm deeply grateful.


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